


I'll be your forgiveness if you'll be mine

by AJ_Bullet



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Adopted Children, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Sexual Assault, Cussing, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Mutual Pining, Orphans, Secret Relationship, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:15:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 31,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26842006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AJ_Bullet/pseuds/AJ_Bullet
Summary: And just like that, something formed between them. Not a friendship, not quite a truce, but an understanding. They still weren’t always friendly with each other, even after they learned more and more about the other. With that understanding, there was also fear. Fear of letting another person in. Clarke had been left by her parents, both choosing to leads lives that led away from her. Bellamy had lost his mother and spent most of his time preventing the same from happening to Octavia. By never allowing themselves to get too close, it made adjusting to a new life easier.Because that was the one thing that remained the same. The one thing they could cling to when everything else became too much.Bellamy and Clarke weren’t friends. But they both knew they couldn’t live without the other.
Relationships: Abby Griffin & Clarke Griffin, Bellamy Blake & Octavia Blake, Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Clarke Griffin & Jake Griffin, Clarke Griffin & Jasper Jordan, Clarke Griffin & Raven Reyes, Monty Green & Clarke Griffin, Monty Green & Jasper Jordan, Octavia Blake & Clarke Griffin
Comments: 23
Kudos: 68





	1. I knew there was a life behind those four pink walls

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I'm new to ao3 and I've never published any of my writings before. I'm hoping if people read them, it'll help motivate me to keep writing. Please tell me what you think, even the shortest responses help. P.S. I'm obsessed with bellarke and I am severely disappointed with the show so there will probably be a lot of bellarke fanfiction in the future if this one does well. Also, I do not own any of these characters, only what they do.

As a child, Clarke didn’t need her mother to remind her how different her life could’ve been. She didn’t need the constant remarks about being grateful and appreciative. But that didn’t stop them.  


Her whole life, she’s known she was privileged. She lived in a manor for God’s sake. And yes, she was grateful and appreciative. She loved being rich and getting anything she asked for. She could do whatever she wanted, as long as she didn’t get her dresses too dirty.  
But then she got older.  


Clarke was eight when Aurora Blake died. Her mother had been running for governor for the first time and things weren’t looking good. Clarke didn’t fully understand politics at the time, but her father summed it up for her. No one saw Abby as a real candidate because no one knew her. Her competitor, Thelonious Jaha, had built a rehabilitation center to help troubled teens, and for that everyone loved him. Abby Griffin didn’t stand a chance.  


But then Aurora Blake died and everything changed.  


She had two children. Bellamy, who was nine at the time, and Octavia, who was four. Their fathers were out of the picture, so they had nowhere to go. Apparently, Aurora and Abby had known each other at school and she saw an opportunity. The next time Abby was on TV, she brought up Aurora’s death, talking about how they were so close and how devastated she was that her best friend had died.  


Clarke knew for a fact that was a lie. Her father had been the one to discover Aurora’s death and her children. He had been the one to tell Abby.  
Her response had been, “I don’t have time to know of everyone who dies, Jake. Why are you telling me this?”  


“You knew her, Abby. She and I grew up together. You met her in high school.”  


From where she was hiding behind the kitchen island, Clarke saw an idea light up her mother’s face. “What was her name again?”  


The next week, Clarke’s life became something she desperately didn’t want. Her father, disgusted by the way Abby was using Aurora’s death to her advantage, left. There was no official divorce, but Jake moved into his own apartment and did everything he could to cut Abby out of his life.  


He still kept in contact with Clarke though, and she lost count of how many times he apologized for doing this to her. “You can come to visit me anytime you want. It’ll be just like it was,” He’d said over and over.  


“Why don’t you just stay?”  


“I love your mother, Clarke. But she changed when she starting running for governor. She’s become everything I thought she was going to stand against.” That was the only time he’d ever actually said anything bad about Abby to her. He’d never try to turn Clarke against her.  


“Please stay,” Clarke had cried.  


“I can’t.” And he didn’t. He left.  


Clarke didn’t speak to him again for years.  


Then, there were Aurora’s kids, Bellamy and Octavia. One day, they were unknown orphans, grieving the loss of their mother. The next, Abby was walking them through the front door of Griffin Manor. It wasn’t an official adoption, but she’d publicly spoke out about how they needed a home and she was more than willing to give one to them.  


Clarke wasn’t sure how, but it won her the election.  


In the first couple of weeks, Clarke avoided the two other children who were now living in her house. It wasn’t too hard. The house was huge and she guessed they were probably avoiding her too. Her mother had never introduced them to Clarke, so the thought of talking to them seemed awkward. Better to just stay away. She stayed in her room mostly, sketching and painting. She’d only go outside to play when she was sure they weren’t out there. But they never were.  


Maybe they ran away, Clarke thought.  


Now that her mother had become governor, she was always gone. Clarke would try to wake up early enough to see her in the morning, but it never happened. She tried staying up late enough to say good night but would fall asleep before her mother got home.  


Two months passed and Clarke was getting good at living on her own. She cooked for herself, rode her bike when she had somewhere to go, tucked herself in, and woke herself up. She’d given up on trying to avoid Bellamy and Octavia. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if they all became friends. Maybe it wouldn’t be so lonely. But whenever she saw them together, and they were always together, none of them ever addressed the other.  


Until Octavia fell down the stairs.  


Clarke had been in the kitchen, attempting to flip an omelet for the third time, when she heard three quick thumps followed by crying. When she turned around, she saw the little girl on her stomach, her short black hair a mess in front of her face.  


She rushed over to Octavia without thinking. She knew the fall probably scared her more than it had hurt, but she wanted to check just to make sure. Octavia looked up at her as she approached, her eyes squinting and disrupting the flow of tears. “Who?” she hiccupped. “Wh—who are you?”  


“I’m Clarke.”  


She blinked, then began to cry harder.  


“What did you do?” Clarke looked up at the top of the staircase, where Bellamy was staring down at her, a mix of fury and disgust on his face. “Get away from her!”  


“I didn’t do anything!” Clarke yelled, but she backed up. “She fell on her own. I was trying to help.”  


Bellamy flew down the stairs, the curls in his hair bouncing with each step, and put himself between Clarke and Octavia. “You’re lying. You probably pushed her.”  


“Why would I push her, you idiot?” She knew calling him names wouldn’t help, but he had no right to accuse her of something so mean.  


“So, you can say she fell. So, you can tell people and get pity and win elections.”  


Clarke made a face. “That’s stupid. I’m not in an election.”  


“Your mom was and she won because of my mom. Because she died. Maybe you're trying to win something for yourself and you're using Octavia.”  


“I—I would never do that. That doesn’t make any sense.”  


Bellamy took a step closer, invading Clarke’s personal space. She noticed his face was full of freckles and she couldn’t tell if she wanted to count them or slap them off. Something about him made her shake with anger, a reaction only her mother was able to earn from her. But this was different. This boy had no right to go weeks without talking to her, then accuse her of something so dumb.  


She hated him. They’d just met, yet she hated him.  


“Don’t come near Octavia or me again,” he said and crossed his arms.  


“You can’t tell me what to do!”  


Bellamy glared at her. The anger in his eyes wasn’t just from Clarke being near Octavia, she guessed. From the moment he got here, he’d hated her and she couldn’t understand why. “You’re such a spoiled little princess. Just because no one’s told you what to do before, doesn’t mean you get your way with me. You come near us again and I’ll hurt you.”  


Spoiled little princess. As if she hadn’t heard those words before. “I may be a princess, but you’re an idiot. I don’t want to come near you!” With that, she stormed back into the kitchen to turn the oven off. Her omelet was burned by now and she threw it in the trash, wishing she could do the same with that stupid Bellamy Blake.


	2. I hate you but I was just kidding myself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting these first few chapters consecutively because I already have them written so I'm not ignoring any responses or suggestions made. Once I finish posting what I've written, I'll start asking for ideas or more suggestions going forward. I feel like I should thank you guys for reading this far!

“Rise and shine, Princess,” a deep voice that was way too loud said.

The words were quickly followed by a rush of light that slammed into the front of Clarke’s eyelids. Even though her eyes were already closed, she instinctively squeezed them tighter, sending a rush of pain through her head at the slight movement. The groan that escaped her was nothing less than animalistic.

“That’s the spirit.” That same voice now held a mocking tone. Even in her current state of misery, she was able to recognize it.  
__

_Bellamy._

“Screw you, Blake,” Clarke said, but any venom was lost when it came out a whisper. It was all she could manage as her brain banged against the inside of her skull.

“Another Friday night, another hungover Griffin. I’m surprised you made it to the couch this time.” She didn’t need to open her eyes to tell that he was closer now, his words were louder and more annoying than a second ago.

She wanted to argue that she wasn’t hungover, but every part of her body said otherwise. Unfortunately, the pain wasn’t contained to her head. Her shoulders felt stiff, her arms and legs were as tight as a rope, and her stomach was debating whether or not she would throw up again. It definitely wasn’t worth the few drinks she had last night.

When the silence grew unnatural, Clarke cracked an eye open and was startled when her vision was tainted black. The boy standing across from her must’ve noticed her flinch because he motioned towards his own face and she did the same. Her fingers closed around the edge of sunglasses and she slipped them off. Sunglasses. She’d been wearing sunglasses. When had she put those on?

Bellamy came and took them out of her hand. “Octavia will be glad to know she can have these back.”

“How did I get them?”

He shook his head at her, a slight laugh escaping his lips. “You’re such a lightweight,” he said. Then he walked over to the fireplace on the other side of the room, placing the sunglasses on the mantle.

“I’m fine.”

“You look pathetic.”

Clarke scoffed and closed her eyes again, adjusting her head against the couch armrest. “Then leave me alone.”

He didn’t answer. She heard footsteps leading away and almost opened her eyes to see it for herself. Had he actually left? When, in all the years they’d known and hated each other, had he ever _listened_ to her?

She felt a slow smile spread on her lips. _Thank god,_ she thought. She might have enough time to go back to sleep before Abby got home and grounded her for staying out last night.

But just as she began to drift off, the ear-piercing _bang_ of metal against floor scared her enough to knock her off the couch with a yelp. Her body collided with the ground a second later. It wasn’t that far of a fall, but that on top of the rest of her hangover made her feel like she’d been hit by a truck. Ignoring the screams of protest coming from her…well, everything, she pulled herself up and turned towards the kitchen that led into the living room. There Bellamy stood, hovering over two pots that had fallen onto the tile floor.

“Sorry,” he said, but nothing else about him seemed apologetic. His face and posture said he’d done it on purpose, which Clarke didn’t doubt for a second.

“You… _asshole!_ ” she yelled. Her throat burned but her anger numbed the pain.

Fighting a smile, he placed a finger in front of his lips and pointed upwards, where they both knew Octavia was in her room. It stopped Clarke from saying anything else, just like he knew it would. Instead, she glared daggers at the boy before her, the boy who she’s hated since they’d met all those years ago. The boy who did anything to get under her skin and agitate her to no end. The feelings were mutual, she knew, and if her head wasn’t threatening to explode any moment, she’d find a way to get back at him.

 _Later,_ she told herself. She’d get him back later, just like always.

For now, she curled her fingers into a fist and turned away, climbing the stairs that would lead to the bedrooms. She thought about going left and plopping down onto her bed, sleeping as long as she could until Abby got home. But she was just so _angry._

She found herself in Octavia’s room a few seconds later, not bothering to knock. The younger girl was on her bed writing in her diary when Clarke entered. She looked up, a small, knowing smile on her mouth. So, she had heard.

“Bellamy?” she asked.

“Bellamy,” Clarke grumbled. She walked over and laid down on the bed, placing her head on Octavia’s leg, a common position between the two. As Octavia played with her hair, she stared up at the stars glued to the ceiling. They no longer lit up because of how long they’d been there, but they were still cool to look at.

“He’s just so… he’s just—”

“An asshole?” Octavia guessed with a laugh, putting her diary aside. “And this is surprising why?”

“You’d think he would get better with time. But no. He’s just as obnoxious and irritating as when you two moved in.” She sighed. “Thank you so much for being normal.”

“My pleasure.”

Clarke closed her eyes. Her head was still killing her, but it was bearable now. It helped that Octavia never turned her lights on. Instead, she had light-up butterflies spread throughout her room and a lamp beside her bed. Her walls were painted a dark purple, making it look smaller than it really was, but Octavia has always loved smaller places.

She slept with about a million pillows, creating a cocoon around herself. Clarke knew she hated living in the manor, where every room was bigger than the last and held windows that exposed each room to the world outside. She remained in her bedroom most of the time and when she did come down for meals or to visit, she stayed close to the walls. She often kept a hand on the closest thing, to keep her grounded.

“I can’t believe he’s staying here for college,” Clarke said, rubbing her hands down her face. She’d nearly screamed when he’d announced the news a couple of weeks ago. He hated living here more than Octavia, but unlike her, he wasn’t afraid to let everyone know it.

“You’ve lived with him for nine years, Clarke. You saying you can’t handle a few more?”

 _Nine years._ It’s felt like they’ve all lived under the same roof forever. Instead of answering—because really, what was she supposed to say? —Clarke tried to fall asleep. If she could just get another hour of sleep…

The next time she was woken up, it was by her mother, who stood a few feet away from the bed with her arms crossed. As if the look on her face didn’t display her feelings clearly enough. Clarke wasn’t surprised when she didn’t say anything. Abby never _had_ to say anything. Her scolding words had lost any meaning years ago when she realized Clarke and Bellamy would never stop acting out. Octavia was the only one she liked.

You’d think that would bother Clarke, that her own mother loved a little girl she took in more than her own daughter, and at first, it did. But then Clarke grew up. She stopped trying. In her opinion, being on Abby’s good side was more trouble than it’s worth.

And if she always made sure to drink a little extra when she went out, who’s to say why?

Instead of speaking, Abby stood with her arms by her sides, barely brushing against her brown wool coat that was definitely longer than necessary. At least they matched her brown snakeskin shoes, which had heels that were definitely too high. Essentially, that was her mother. Too expansive. Too distant. Too much.

Her face was blank. The only thing that showed any emotion was her eyes. They always held a fire, one that Clarke knew she’d inherited, but when Abby was angry, that fire took control. You could see it grow, even as the rest of her remained the same.

After a brief staring contest, one Clarke broke by trying to stifle a yawn, her mother finally seemed to breathe. “What happened?”

Her voice, colder than the metal bracelet hanging from Clarke’s wrist, sent shivers down her arms. She concealed it well. If there’s one thing she actually took from the scolding and lectures her mother gave, it was that to show you were afraid or weak is to immediately admit defeat.

“I went out,” Clarke said, making sure to reveal nothing.

“Oh? And did what, Clarke?”

“I went to a bar,” she said slowly. “I drank. I got drunk. That’s usually what happens there.”

With each word, she could feel her grave getting deeper as the fire in Abby’s eyes grew fiercer. “Why?”

“Are you serious? This isn’t the first time, Mom, you know that. Why do you keep pretending like I’ve never done anything like this in my life?”

“I keep hoping,” She took a breath. “that you’ll learn. What you do affects this whole family. It affects me. Your actions are not your own, Clarke.”

 _Your actions are not your own._ She wanted to scream that she knew that. God, she knew it. It’s been ingrained in her brain since her mother decided she wanted to become famous. Since she decided to not only change her own life but to change Clarke’s as well.

Clarke stayed quiet, letting her attention drift to Octavia’s diary sitting on the bedside table. It was dark red with a belt-like latch. She remembered when she and Bellamy were at the store, arguing over which one to get Octavia for her birthday. The whole trip had been awful, full of disagreements and snide remarks. But when they’d finally agreed on one, and Octavia had opened it, the smile that lit up her face made it all worth it. The next day, she’d glued pictures of her and Clarke, her and Bellamy, and all three of them on the front cover, leaving room for butterfly stickers on the corners.

Clarke focused on memorizing the different pictures to keep from screaming and punching the mattress she was sitting on.

“Well, I hope you know you’re grounded. Bellamy will be driving you to school for the next couple weeks and all your devices need to be in my room within the hour,” Abby said, smoothing out one of the sleeves of her coat. She turned and walked away, stopping at the door threshold. Without turning around, she said, “I’m disappointed in you, Clarke. Again.” Then, she was gone.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Clarke whispered. She told herself it didn’t matter. She’s heard those words leave her mother’s lips more often than any kind of sentiment. She was used to it.

But telling herself that didn’t stop the ache in her chest. It didn’t stop the burning behind her eyes as she thought of the fire in her mother’s. It didn’t stop her from realizing that the anger she’d felt a second ago was gone, it had left with Abby. In its place was something she couldn’t allow herself to feel. She couldn’t want her mother’s approval because she’d never get it.

That’s another thing she took from the scolding and lectures.


	3. Today is never too late to be brand new

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little shorter because there was nowhere else to break it up. Trust me, the next chapter will make up for it in size.

“Come on, Clarke. We’re gonna be late!” Octavia’s voice whined.

Clarke spits the toothpaste out of her mouth and into the sink, barely registering the lipstick she wiped off with a towel. _Guess I’ll go without it,_ she thought. “I’m coming! Just a second!”

Taking a quick second to look at herself in the mirror, she glanced over hair, which she’d forced into a simple braid, and the yellow sundress her mother had given her last week. She’d told her it wasn’t a special occasion while also hinting towards this event. Usually, Clarke wouldn’t listen, but she wanted her driving privileges back. It had only been a day, but having Bellamy drive her everywhere was agony.

She slipped on her shoes, trying to sip up the back of her dress at the same time. So, she’d woken up a little late. It was fine. Everything was fine. It’s not like she wants to go to this stupid event anyway. But if she’s late, Octavia’s late and Abby will kill both of them.

And Bellamy will never let her hear the end of it.

“Ok,” she said opening the door. “Ok, I’m good.”

“Define good?” Bellamy’s voice drifted to her from where he stood outside his room, just down the hall. He was adjusting one of the sleeves on his suit jacket. “Bad hair day?”

“You’re one to talk, Blake.” Clarke usually hated calling him by his last name because he shared it with Octavia, but in the moment, it felt right. “I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to use the whole bottle of hair grease on one occasion.”

It was a lie. Just like always, he looked _good_ , which angered her to no end. His black curls were slicked back but not nearly as bad as when he was a child and had no idea how much to use. He was wearing a tux with no tie and a couple of the first buttons were undone. Clarke was surprised the suit from two years ago fit. Though he wasn’t abnormally tall, he’d still grown to be nearly two feet taller than her, which he never let her forget.

“You both look fine, now let’s go!” The little girl took Clarke’s hand and practically dragged her down the stairs. She relented, if only to keep from stumbling on the stairs, and heard Bellamy sigh before following.

Abby might not be governor any more after getting reelected and serving eight years, but it was as if nothing changed. She still cared about her public appearance because it was still perfect, despite everything Bellamy and Clarke have done to mess it up. Never intentionally of course. And if Bellamy slept around with girls who had influential parents and Clarke went out to get drunk every week, it was no one’s business but theirs.

As hard as she tried, Clarke couldn’t remember what this event was for. There was always somewhere to go, something to do, somehow to look. She stopped caring about her own public appearance years ago. Growing up surrounded by people who cared about nothing else, she learned just how destructive it could be. Abby was no longer a mother, to her or to Bellamy and Octavia. She comes home more often, now that she doesn’t have an official office to stay in. But she’s more of a legal guardian than a parent.

Not that Clarke cared.

Not when Abby’s lack of presence was what finally brought her and Octavia together.

_Clarke had thought she’d gotten used to it, the loneliness. Walking around a large empty house, knowing no one was ever going to come around a corner to greet her. Waking up, walking to school, coming home, making dinner, going to bed. It was a routine. A schedule she learned to live with._

_She told herself it was fine. It wouldn’t be like this forever. Her mom would come home more when she’s less busy. Her mom would be home soon._

_That’s what she kept repeating in her mind, even as she sat with her back to her bed one night in the dark, sobbing harder than when she’d fallen out of a tree and broken her arm. Her pillow had done nothing to stifle her tears and Clarke couldn’t find the energy to care. In fact, her frustration finally caught up to her. After weeks of keeping herself company, left alone with her thoughts of how her father left without her and her mother didn’t even care enough to call, Clarke lost it._

_She ripped the sheets off her bed and punched the mattress. She jumped up and down, trying to get rid of the anger that was driving her body like a rocket, and threw everything within reach. With the lights off, she couldn’t see where her bed ended and when she took a forceful step forward, she banged her foot against the metal on the side of it. She groaned and tried to massage her throbbing foot._

_The pain seemed to drain the rest of her anger and she returned to her previous position: sitting with her back against the bed, tears relentlessly streaming down her face. Her foot was cradled in one hand and she stared at the mess she’d made around her. She knew she should clean it all up, but she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to do anything except sit and cry._

_That changed when the door of her bedroom opened a fraction, letting a line of light in from the hallway. Long black hair framed two huge, scared eyes as the little girl stared at Clarke. She must’ve heard the tantrum._

_“Hi,” Clarke managed weakly. Her voice was scratchy and if Octavia hadn’t heard her crying before, it was evident in her words. “What’s going on?” Octavia didn’t answer. She opened the door the rest of the way and stepped in, shutting it behind her. The room was dark again, but Clarke could make out her form as she walked closer, stopping only inches away._

_“Bell said you’re mean. He said I should—should not talk to you,” she said finally._

_“You don’t have to.”_

_“Are you mean?”_

_“I guess I can be. Sometimes.”_

_Octavia giggled. The next thing Clarke knew, she was sitting beside her, her head resting on Clarke’s arm. “It gets…it gets boring. I do. I get bored. Bell doesn’t like this. This place. And I—I don’t to.”_

_“I don’t always like it here either. There’s never anything to do.”_

_Silence. Then, “I like,” Octavia lowered her voice. “I like the dark. I like night.”_

_Clarke smiled. Maybe that’s why Octavia had come in. Maybe it had nothing to do with Clarke at all, she just liked the dark. Clarke was ok with that. At least she was here now and for the first time in months, Clarke didn’t feel alone. Even with the four-year age gap, even with Bellamy’s threats to never go near her, maybe they could be friends._

_“I like the dark too.”_


	4. I walk my days on a wire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so even after all of the fanfics I've read, I still don't know exactly what to write in notes so if they come off a little awkward, just know that...that pretty much sums me up. As I said, this chapter is longer because I have no idea how to properly split up one long story into multiple chapters. If this not is anything to go by, basically I have no idea what I'm doing.

The event was just like everyone she’d ever been to, but Clarke couldn’t wipe the smile off her face. The moment the three of them had arrived, Octavia took off. She’d been impatient the whole way there and even though she wasn’t as dedicated to ruining Abby’s career as Clarke and Bellamy were, she usually didn’t care about being late or making Abby mad. As Clarke found a table to sit at, far enough away so we wouldn’t have to talk too much but not so far as to be obvious, Bellamy sat down beside her and groaned.

“What? No new targets to seduce this evening?” Clarke said, swiping a drink off a passing server.

He wiped a hand down his face. “Plenty. That’s not the problem.”

“Please. Tell me what your problem is. I’ll even pretend to care.”

With a glare in her direction, he motioned towards the opposite end of the open field, which was filled with tables, chairs, and a huge platform meant for dancing. Near the long table full of all different kinds of expensive foods, stood Octavia. She was talking and laughing with a boy who looked about her age, maybe a year or two older. He had a handsome smile.

“Who is he?”

“No idea. She didn’t mention him to you?” Bellamy asked.

“Of course not. She’d allowed to have a personal life, Bellamy.”

“Not when it includes guys like that.”

“Guys like that?” Clarke turned to face him. He kept his attention on Octavia. “How do you know what he’s like? You don’t even know his name.”

“I don’t have to know his name. All guys like that are the same.”

“Guys like you?”

He glanced at her and a sly smile grew on his face. “Aren’t I allowed to have a personal life too?”

Clarke scoffed. “Not when your ‘personal life’ wakes me up as she’s trying to sneak out.” She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. It was true. None of his conquests ever tried to be quiet. Calling it ‘sneaking out’ wasn’t even appropriate. They practically strutted down the hall and out the door at any time they like, as if being with Bellamy for a night gave them as much power as their parents had.

As if they’d ever been back. As if Bellamy would be with the same girl twice.

Not that Clarke cared. Not at all. In fact, the more damage it did to Abby’s “perfect family” image the better. But Octavia was thirteen now and even if she never showed it, Clarke knew it had to bother her.

“That’s what earbuds are for,” Bellamy said with a shrug.

She rolled her eyes. “Asshole.”

“Princess.”

“I’m going to get something to eat. Do not ruin for Octavia.” Clarke stood up and walked off, ignoring his request for her to bring him a drink.

The boy was gone when she reached the table so she went and stood by Octavia, nudging her lightly with her shoulder. “So?” she asked. “Who was that?”

Octavia bit her lip. A small smile slipped through anyway. “His name’s Atom. He’s…he really sweet.”

“How long have you known Atom?” Clarke tried to sound casual. She scooped some mash potatoes onto her plate.

“A couple of weeks. We met at school. In a couple of my classes.”

“Which classes?”

Octavia nudged her back. “You sound like Bellamy.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s ok. You care. He cares. I understand.”

Clarke set down her plate and looked her in the eye, bending down slightly to do so. “No, it’s not. Your life is your own and it’s none of our business. I’m sorry. I told him not to ruin this for you and that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

Octavia’s smile grew. “I love you.”

“More than Bellamy?”

“Careful,” she laughed.

Clarke kissed her forehead, smiling as well. “Love you too. Now come on. I’m starving.” They both finished filling their plates and returned to the table. Bellamy glared at Clarke’s hands as he realized she hadn’t brought him a drink. She blinked innocently.

Before Octavia could set her plate down, he swiped a roll of bread off it, stuffing it in his mouth before she had time to react.

“Get your own food!” she said and playfully slapped his arm.

He was about to say something but stopped at the sight of something behind Clarke. She turned and froze. Sylvia Wallace was walking towards their table, a notepad in one hand and a pen in the other.

A guy-wrenching fear struck Clarke as the woman got closer, a familiar feeling. The journalist was always there at Abby’s side, asking questions too sensitive for anyone else. She was the one person Clarke aimed to avoid at these events but her sights had now been set. There was no escaping it.

Without thinking, Clarke looked back at Bellamy and she knew he could read the panic in her eyes. He knew all about Sylvia and the other reporters and journalists who never seemed to run out of questions. He also had to know that he and Octavia were safe.

The first couple years they’d spent at Griffin Manor, they’d been interviewed and asked all about their feelings towards the situation and their life before. But now, no one ever thought to ask them questions because despite where they lived, they were not Griffins and so no one cared.

Unfortunately for Clarke, she was Abby’s daughter. The Griffin heir.

The next thing she knew, she was out of her seat and across the dance platform where she and Octavia had been standing just a minute before. Sylvia was in her face, writing down everything either of them said.

“It’s so nice to see you again, Clarke! I feel like it’s been forever,” she said without looking up at her. Her grey-streaked brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail, reminding Clarke of just how old this woman was. Nothing about her personality pointed towards her age. She was always either upbeat or rushing through the interview.

“It’s nice to see you too,” Clarke lied. She didn’t bother to sound like she meant it.

“I know there are probably tons of people waiting to chat with you but I just wanted to ask a few, quick questions. Is that ok?”

 _No,_ she wanted to say. _It would be ok if you took your questions and shoved them up your—_

_“Of course.”_

Sylvia smiled. “Great! I first wanted to ask if you had any plans for your upcoming birthday? Seventeen! I feel like I’ve watched you grow up.”

“No. No plans. I’ll probably just stay home. Watch a movie and stuff.” Clarke hid a cringe, knowing how that could be twisted around in the paper. “ _Clarke Griffin Decides to Spend Birthday Alone. But Alone with Who? Is There A New Man in Her Life?_ ” So, she added, “You know, with my family.”

Sylvia’s face brightened, but she turned her mouth into a frown. “Speaking of family, do your plans include your father, Jake Griffin? No one’s heard from him in years. Surely he’ll come out of hiding to wish his daughter a happy birthday?”

Clarke felt the anger starting to grow inside her, burning her insides with an insatiable heat. It was the same question every year and she was tired of giving the answer. “No. I haven’t spoken to my father in quite a while. I don’t think I’ll be seeing him this year.” Or the next. Or the next.

“Such a shame. You two used to be very close, yes? You used to be known as the famous Daddy’s Girl.”

 _Daddy’s Girl._ The words had been plastered above her picture in every article that came out before her father left. She was always by his side, and he by hers. He was the only one who ever made her feel normal growing up. If it weren’t for him, Clarke would’ve become the kind of person Bellamy first thought she was. A spoiled little princess. But after he left, there were plenty of other things to humble her. Like knowing she wasn’t good enough to make him stay. Like the loneliness she felt in those months before befriending Octavia. Like the bullies at school who knew exactly who her family was and hated her for it.

But despite the fact that her father left, Clarke still loved him as much as she did when she was little. He never stopped being her rock, even if he didn’t know it. Even if she could never bring herself to tell him.

Just because she still loves him, doesn’t mean she forgives him for leaving.

“Yup. But he left, so…”

“Just heartbreaking. Truly. Do you at least know why he left? Was it because of the Blake siblings? Your mother? You?”

“I…Bellamy and Octavia had nothing to do with it. With anything.”

“So, it was your mother? Did he fall out of love with a woman married to her job?”

The heat rose until it was about to boil over, like lava locked in a faulty volcano. It was overwhelming, to feel anger so strong again. The only one who could really anger her was Bellamy, but that was different. He could never do this to her, spark this bad of a reaction. And Sylvia had no idea she was about to crack. “My parents _loved_ each other.”

“Then he left because of you? Because why else would a father leave his only child?”

Clarke knew it was coming. But the fire that had burned so bright a second ago was gone, extinguished by the cold water of reality. It was her mother’s fault that Jake Griffin had left, but it was Clarke that he had left behind.

A cold shell encased her heart, stopping the blood and freezing her body. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? How is that? As I stated, you were Daddy’s Girl. How could you not know why he decided to begin a new life?”

“I just…” A tear blurred the edges of her vision. She couldn’t cry here. Not now. The papers would crucify her. “I don’t—"

“Clarke?” a deep voice called. “Oh, thank god. Abby wants _another_ group picture. There’s no way in hell you’re getting out of it.”

Relief wasn’t a strong enough word to describe the tension that drained from Clarke’s body as she saw Bellamy suddenly beside her. He casually threw an arm around her shoulders and nodded towards Sylvia. “I’m sure this interrogation can wait until another time?”

“I…well, yes, of course. Goodbye, Clarke. And happy birthday.” Hesitantly, the old woman walked away, mumbling to herself.

Clarke felt Bellamy lead her away. They passed people she didn’t recognize and prayed none of them would come up and try to talk. She couldn’t handle a conversation right now. Not when Sylvia’s words kept replaying in her head. _Daddy’s Girl. His only child. A woman married to her job. Then he left because of you?_

It took her a moment to realize Bellamy hadn’t taken her back to their table. Instead, the two of them were by a tree on the outskirts of the party, hidden from sight. His arm was still around her shoulders and she leaned away from him, looking around. “What’re you doing? We can’t leave. Octavia is—”

“Clarke, breathe.” His voice was low and quiet and he dropped his arm. He spoke almost directly into her ear. “Just breathe.”

“I’m fine. We have to”

“Clarke—”

“What?” The word came out harshly as she looked up at him. Why was he doing this? She could handle this on her own.

He stared into her eyes, his own as dark as the night sky. “You’re shaking.”

“I’m not…” she dragged off and glanced down at her hands. They were twitching by her side, like magnets being pulled by an invisible force. She folded them together and brought them to her chest, realizing only then how heavily she was breathing.

“Just breathe,” Bellamy repeated. And she listened. She leaned back against the tree and closed her eyes, focusing on his words instead of Sylvia’s. _Just breathe just breathe just breathe._ A warm hand gently squeezed her shoulder.

When she had more control over her breathing, she opened her eyes and let a couple of tears fall. They ran down her face and she rubbed away the wet lines they had left behind. With a quick sniff, Clarke stepped away from the tree. She held her head high as she turned to Bellamy, hoping some amount of her dignity remained.

But he wasn’t looking at her like she’d just shown weakness. Like she was just another problem he had to try and fix. Like a problem or collateral.

His eyes trailed over her face as if he was searching for something. Then, a small smile slipped onto his. “You okay?”

“No,” she said honestly. It was pointless to lie after what just happened. “But what choice do I have? I’m Abby Griffin’s daughter.” She laughed bitterly. “The perfect, perfect daughter.”

Bellamy was quiet. He turned back towards the party and crossed his arms. Where the stance would probably display anger or defensiveness for others, with him, it meant he was thinking. After living with him for so long, Clarke was able to recognize when he was doing so. She just wished she could read his mind and find out what was going on in his head.

“Well,” he said finally. “I’ll keep your secret.” He bumped her shoulder with his.

“What secret?”

“You’re not perfect.” There was no mocking in his tone. He didn’t say it to be mean or pick a fight. In their lives, not being perfect was a compliment. It reminded Clarke of just how well he knew her, despite the two never becoming “friends.”

She and Octavia were friends—best friends. She didn’t know what her and Bellamy were. They push each other’s limits and argue. They mock and tease and play and fight, but when it came down to it, they know each other. Really know each other. And when you live the kind of life they do, you realize how rare that actually is.

Clarke bumped him back. “You’re not so perfect either, Blake.” What she really meant was _thank you_. By the way he nodded, she could tell he knew.


	5. Take my hand, we'll be fine

That’s the thing about Bellamy Blake. He had a bad habit of not staying consistent. One day, he’s making a hangover worse by purposely dropping metal pots. The next, he’s talking Clarke down from a panic attack. But that’s just how their relationship worked. It’s been that way since they were kids.

It began a couple of weeks after Octavia had come into Clarke’s room for the first time.

_After Octavia came in that first night, Clarke made it a habit to keep her lights off as much as possible. She got used to working in the dark and only used the lamp on her desk when doing homework. And it paid off._

_Octavia never came during the day, whether it was because of Bellamy or something else, but Clarke didn’t mind. She had gotten good at keeping herself occupied during the day. And at night, just before she’d tuck herself in, her bedroom door would crack open and Octavia would wait for an invitation, which she always received. The two girls would sit on her bed and talk about random things. Sometimes they’d lay down on Clarke’s master bed and just fall asleep on opposite ends. It didn’t matter. As long as Clarke wasn’t alone, she didn’t care._

_Octavia seemed to become a different person over the nights they spent talking. She didn’t even bother to knock after a week and instead, would come in and lay down on the bed, waiting for Clarke to either tell her a story or lay down beside her. She talked more and more each night and started to smile often. Clarke loved knowing that the little girl liked her._

_She’d even got up the nerve to ask her once, “We’re friends, right?”_

_Octavia looked at her and scrunched up her nose, nodding. “You’re my bestest friend.”_

_And Clarke’s smile never left that night, even as she’d fallen asleep._

_The girls had been continuing this routine for three weeks when Clarke had the nightmare. She’d had them before of course, but not since Octavia had basically begun to share a room with her. It had been one of those times when they were both too tired to talk and fell asleep before either could get a word out._

_Clarke’s dream started out soft. She was on a cloud, floating through the sky and looking down below. Instead of seeing tiny people and buildings, she saw green grass and flowers that rose almost as high as her. Everything was light and sweet, just like how her life had been._

_But when she looked forward, deeper into the sky, she saw her father floating on a similar cloud, except his was dark and stormy. Below him was a desert full of vines and spikes, waiting for him to fall. The sky around him was grey and full of lightning strikes. He was drenched by the rain that had come out of nowhere and just before he fell, his hand reached out to her, as if she could save him._

_Clarke didn’t move._

_Not until she saw his cloud evaporate, leaving him to subside to gravity. He was gone._

_“No!”_ _she yelled._ I take it back, _she thought._ I take it back; I want to save him! Let me save him! _“Daddy!”_

_“Hey!” a voice yelled, almost as loud as she had. Her body shook as something form grabbed a hold of her shoulder. Her dream died as her eyes opened._

_The bedroom light was on and it surprised Clarke as she looked around. Octavia was standing by the foot of the bed, her eyes trained on the comforter that had been kicked off. Her hair was in her face and it was almost as if she was trying to hide behind it._

_But if she was over there, then who had woken her up?_

_Clarke looked at the hand that was still on her shoulder and followed it to the last person she expected. Bellamy stood before her. Once he realized she was awake, he took a step back and dropped his hand._

_“What are you doing here?” Clarke asked, sitting up. Her clothes stuck to her as she moved and she could feel the sweat running down her back. It was disgusting._

_“Octavia came and got me. She said you were yelling and fighting yourself. She got scared.” He crossed his arms._

_She turned to Octavia and held her hand out. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”_

_“’s ok.” She took Clarke's hand and sat beside her on the bed. Bellamy didn’t stop her._

_Not even as Clarke wrapped her arms around her in apology. It was the first hug she’d had in months and she forgot how comforting it felt. A part of her knew Bellamy would probably say something soon, something about how she went against his warning. He had to know she and Octavia had become friends. He had to be angry about it._

_Then there was the fact that he had witnessed her nightmare. He had to be angry that he was woken up by a scared Octavia. He would never let Clarke forget tonight and how pathetic she’d been._

_But Bellamy didn’t do anything. When Clarke finally pulled away, he didn’t glare or reprimand her. There was no anger in his expression or disgust. Though his eyes never left her, they seemed softer than she’d ever seen before. What was going on?_

_“What’d you dream about?” he asked. Even at a young age, his voice was deep and rough, but the words came out gentle._

_Clarke looked at Octavia, debating whether she should tell him or not. Maybe he would just tease her about it or tell her to suck it up. Maybe…but maybe not._

_“My dad. He left.”_

_“I know. Because of us.”_

_“No,” she said automatically. “No, it wasn’t you guys. It was my mom. She…changed.”_

_“I’m sorry.”_

_Clarke shrugged. “It’s not your fault. My dad chose to leave and he did.”_

_Bellamy nodded, then adjusted his weight on his feet. He was probably tired. It was the middle of the night and he’d been woken up. He probably wanted to go back to sleep._

_Instead of saying that, he said, “Octavia told me about staying in your room at night.”_

_The change in topic was a relief, even if it was to something that could go wrong. “She said she liked the dark. I don’t like being alone. We’re friends.”_

_“Well, thank you. She seems…happy.” Did he think she wasn’t happy with him?_

_“You’re a good brother, Bellamy.” Clarke said just in case that’s what he thought._

_He nodded again and they both turned to Octavia. She was laid out on the bed and asleep, snoring quietly._

_“I was just trying to protect her,” he said._

_“I know. But you don’t have to protect her from me. We’re friends.”_

_Bellamy looked at Clarke again, a small smile on his face. The first she’s ever seen from him. She liked it. “I know.”_

_They never talked about that night again. They never talked about how Bellamy was always able to calm Clarke down from a panic attack. They never talked about how Clarke was the only one Bellamy trusted to be honest with him._

_And just like that, something formed between them. Not a friendship, not quite a truce, but an understanding. They still weren’t always friendly with each other, even after they learned more and more about the other. With understanding, there was also fear. Fear of letting another person in. Clarke had been left by her parents, both choosing to leads lives that led away from her. Bellamy had lost his mother and spent most of his time preventing the same from happening to Octavia._

_By never allowing themselves to get too close, it made adjusting to a new life easier._

_Because that was the one thing that remained the same. The one thing they could cling to when everything else became too much._

_Bellamy and Clarke weren’t friends. But they both knew they couldn’t live without the other._

Two days after the event, Clarke was seconds away from skipping school. A headache had been haunting her from the moment she woke up and she knew her lack of sleep was to blame. She had trouble sleeping these days, though there was never a definite reason why. Maybe the art piece she’d been working on begged for her attention. Maybe a new show had come on Netflix that she couldn’t wait to try. Maybe she wasn’t tried.

Or maybe, Clarke didn’t want to see the nightmares anymore. They were almost as bad as the panic attacks.

Now that Bellamy was driving her to school, it made the journey there even harder to endure. There wasn’t a second she spent in his jeep named the “Rover” that wasn’t filled with ear-piercing music from the radio. Clarke wasn’t even sure Bellamy liked whatever he forced her to listen to. In fact, she bet her life that he’d turn it off the instant she got out of the jeep. It was just to annoy her.

To be fair, she had slashed two of his tires the week after he first got the Rover.

But that was payback for him dropping her phone in the toilet and blaming it on Miller.

“Could you turn it down?” Clarke yelled over the music. Her head pounded along with the beat.

“Sorry, what?” He turned it up louder.

Clarke just sighed and covered her ears with her hands. She couldn’t hear if he laughed, but knowing him, he did. It wasn’t that she was embarrassed. No, of course not. Her reputation had died a miserable death years ago. She couldn’t care less about what the other kids thought of her.

When the high school came into view, Clarke readied her backpack so she could make a quick getaway. But Bellamy didn’t stop in front of the school. He kept driving and circled around to the back, where the buses were bringing in kids.

Clarke stared at him. “What are you doing? Why’re you parking back here?”

“I’ve got practice. It’s closer to the gym.” He opened his door and got out.

“No, you don’t,” she said, doing the same. “Baseball pre-season is after school. You have Government first.”

Bellamy paused. It was his turn to stare. A small, taunting grin played at his lips. “Why do you know my schedule?”

“All the better to prank you with, my dear.” She smiled and blinked at him innocently. Then sighed. “What’s the big deal? You know mine.”

“Only because you complain about all of your classes. I wouldn’t care otherwise.”

“Sure.”

He shook his head and slid an arm through his backpack’s strap. “You’re going to have to wait for me after school. As you said, I have practice.” Then, he walked off.

Clarke flipped him off in her mind and went in a different way. Finn was waiting for her right outside her first class. Clarke watched as he ran his hand through his shoulder-length brown hair, moving it out of his face. She also watched as a couple of girls stared at him as he did so. _Don’t even go there,_ she thought.

She quickened her pace to get to him sooner and was greeted with his mind-blowing smile. It caused her to do the same, despite the day so far. She wrapped her arms around his waist. “Hi.

“Hey,” he said, gazing down at her.

“How was your weekend?”

“Uneventful. It couldn’t even come close to the rowdy, rebellious actions of Clarke Griffin.”

“Ugh.” Clarke groaned, pressing her forehead against his chest. “Was that really what the news said?”

“They were a little more forceful about it, but basically. Yeah.” Finn rubbed her back. She heard the smile in his voice.

Nothing she ever did seemed to scare him away. It amazed Clarke the first time she’d met him a few months ago. Finn had transferred to Skikru High from the Ark due to something in his past. He had instantly become everyone’s favorite. The guys wanted him on their teams and the girls wanted him in their beds.

Clarke had stayed away. The media had made her out to be some out of control teenage monster. Her mother was as political as it gets. Her dad left. The Blakes were her “adopted” siblings.

The odds were always stacked against her. No one ever saw her for who she was, but rather what she’d done and who she’s associated with.

Then Finn had sat beside her at lunch one day, talking to her as if they’d known each other since birth. Needless to say, Clarke fell in love.

They started dating a couple of weeks later. This in no way affected Finn’s popularity though. But after they became official, the girls wouldn’t just stare at Clarke as she passed in the halls. They’d openly talk about her, asking what made her so special and why he chose her. They’d glare and gang up in groups. It only got worse from there.

That’s why the music didn’t embarrass her.

That’s why she walked with her head high and her temper short. She got used to it. As long as she had Finn.

“When did you get here?” Finn said as Clarke raised her head. “I was waiting in the front for your car.”

So, that’s why Bellamy drove to the back. He hated Finn. Clarke assumed it was because they both played baseball. Even though it’s supposed to be a team sport, whoever sucked up to coach enough got their pick of which position to play and when they bat. Bellamy had told her about it once. Well, complained about it to Octavia and Clarke had been in the room.

“Bellamy dropped me off in the back. I’m grounded.”

Finn rolled his eyes. Only he could make it look cute. “Right. Bellamy.”

“I still don’t understand why you guys hate each other.”

“You hate him.”

“I…sometimes. Maybe. But we live together, Finn. We’re not supposed to get along.”

Finn swung his arm around her shoulders, planting a kiss on top of her head. “I get along with you. That’s all that matters.”

“Yeah, ok,” Clarke laughed.

The bell rang. She normally wouldn’t care. Being late hardly mattered anymore. Maybe she’d skip class altogether. But Finn, being who he is, jumped and quickly kissed her. “I love you,” he said and started to walk away. “Love you too!” Clarke said. It wasn’t the first time they’d said it, but she liked the smile he always sent her after the words had been spoken. This time, for whatever reason, he didn’t smile. He didn’t even turn around.


	6. Do the people whisper 'bout you on the train like me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: (a bad) description of blood, injuries, and fighting. Things are probably going to be getting more interesting now. I wanted to spend the first chapters showing the different relationships already formed, but there are more to come. If there's a character you want to see or a specific relationship between two characters, just comment and I'll try to make it work. Thanks!

It was lunch before Clarke felt like talking to anyone else. She usually took her lunch and sat outside by a large, broad tree that she’d sketched a hundred times. It provided shade from the heat and a good hiding place for her friends’ drug stash.

She had just sat down when they arrived.

Monty and Jasper. Also known as the two best stoners at Skikru and Clarke’s best friends since middle school. They had their arms slung around each other, Monty guiding Jasper as he swung from side-to-side. They barely made it to the table before Jasper collapsed and rested his head on the wooden surface. Monty rolled his eyes, exhaustion and amusement on his face.

“He found the new supply I was making. I tried to tell him no but…” He motioned towards the other boy.

Clarke smiled. “It was that good, huh?”

“As if anything I make wouldn’t be.” Monty sat across from her and beside Jasper, probably to keep him from falling to the ground. “I heard what happened this weekend. I’m sorry.”

She shrugged. “It’s not that big of a deal. It’s not like I don’t go out every Friday anyway. I was just too drunk to avoid getting caught.”

“What’d your mom say?”

“The usual. Then she grounded me.”

Jasper popped his head up at something. His eyes were glazed over and bloodshot. “Grounders,” he mumbled. Fear crept up his face and it might’ve been enough to sober him a bit. “No Grounders.”

“Not Grounders, Jas. Grounded. As in, no phone, no car, no nothing.” Clarke sighed as her words fell on deaf ears. Once the word “grounder” was in his head, it took hours for him to calm down.

That’s technically how they met. The Grounders were a gang that hung around the school, even though every member was too old to attend. They stayed in dark alleys, scaring kids as they walked by and stealing whatever was convenient.

They weren’t like the Mountain Men or Eligius. The Grounders didn’t actually hurt you unless you hurt them first. Jasper made that mistake.

Long story short, Clarke found him just inside an alley beside the school on her walk home one day. She’d been grounded and Bellamy had practice, but there was no way she was staying to watch. She barely turned the first street corner when she heard a pitiful whimper. When she followed the sound and found him, bleeding out from a wound in his chest, of course she saved him.

Well, she tried.

Even though she was still in middle school, her mother been pushing her to be a doctor since she was young, getting her private sessions in hospitals and making her study everything she could about medicine. It had been the one thing Clarke didn’t mind doing at her mother’s request. She loved knowing how to sew up a wound or which medicine to take for what. But she wasn’t going to be a doctor. She knew she couldn’t handle losing patients. Getting attached to people who were just going to die anyway.

Clarke used what she knew to keep Jasper stable until the ambulance arrived and he was taken to the hospital. _They_ saved his life.

That’s just not how Jasper saw it.

Clarke’s friendship with Monty came immediately after. They met in Jasper’s room at the hospital, where they both spent all of their free time. She told him what happened, with Jasper’s overenthusiastic commentary, and Monty wasted no time in thanking her. He even hugged her. When Jasper slept, the two of them talked and played board games Clarke brought. When Jasper was awake, the three of them did the same and Clarke came to love the two boys. Her first real friends.

They knew who she was, who her mother and father were, her reputation. But they didn’t care. They saw _her_ , Clarke Griffin. Maybe that was good enough.

“The grounding wouldn’t be as bad if Bellamy didn’t have to drive me everywhere. He plays the radio way too loud.”

“Speaking of Bellying,” Jasper said, looking around Clarke. He lowered his voice. “Did you…did you ask him at the—the thing?”

Clarke shook her head and picked at her lunch. Always the same thing. “No, I didn’t ask him about the Rover. You know he’s never going to let you drive it.”

“But it looks so _cool_!” he yelled.

Monty shushed him, looking around. “Do you want to get caught high?”

“Hi.”

“That’s not…never mind.”

Clarke laughed. Everything else seemed to fade away as they talked. All her problems and worries took a backseat to the conversations they had. She ate her lunch and fought against choking as Jasper continued to look around the courtyard at imaginary things. Monty tried to humor him, which led to a purple dinosaur looming over the other tables, a beanstalk that was growing right beside an unaware student, and clouds that were shaped like dancing cows.

Jasper usually had control over his high but he must’ve taken a larger dose than normal.

Not that he seemed to care.

What _Clarke_ cared about was the sudden uproar of chants from the other tables. Most of the students had abandoned their lunches and were gathering in a huge circle, watching something. From the cheers and occasional _Fight!_ It wasn’t hard to guess what.

“Who’s fighting now?” she asked without looking away from the crowd.

“Who knows. Maybe Roma and Fox finally went at it. They’ve been passive-aggressively staring at each other for days.”

It wasn’t uncommon for a fight to break out at Skikru, especially when the school was known as the place kids go when nowhere else wants them. Other schools called them the “Delinquents.” Clarke’s mother had tried putting her and Bellamy at Mountain High and Arcadia, two of the richest schools around, but they’d found a way to get kicked out of both.

So, they were stuck here.

Monty sighed and stood up, leaving Jasper to try and stay upright on his own. He went over to the crowd, only to come back immediately after. Clarke could read his expression like one of her medical books.

“Don’t say it—”

“It’s Bellamy.”

“Who the hell is he fighting?”

“Dax.”

 _Shit._ As good as Bellamy was at beating the crap out of people, Dax was twice as strong. And Bellamy had a temper that caused him to rush his punches and slow his reaction time.

Clarke shook her head. She shouldn’t know that. She shouldn’t care. He found his way into this fight; he can get himself out.

 _Still_ , she thought, reasoning with herself. _For Octavia._

She followed Monty back to the crowd, which was now made up of every kid in the courtyard, making it hard to push to the front. But people spread in front of her, their attention on her as if she were the one fighting. Maybe they thought her mother would have them arrested.

Maybe they wanted her to join.

Finally at the front, Clarke could see what was going on. Bellamy was holding his own but was losing. Blood rippled across his face where the skin was torn from Dax’s punches. His hair curled with sweat, plastering to the sides of his face and in front of his eyes. The top of his shorts was ripped and red-stained.

Dax looked about the same, just with more sweat than blood. And his hair was blonde and short, nothing like Bellamy’s. Which was not something to focus on.

Dax threw another punch that Bellamy dodged, which gave him an opportunity to hit Dax in the stomach. But the blonde reacted quickly and slugged Bellamy in the face, causing his neck to twist to the side.

When Bellamy faced him again, he grinned. Blood stained his teeth red and dripped from the corner of his mouth. A shudder ran through Clarke.

 _Stupid idiot_ , she thought. That wasn’t all she was thinking.

Bellamy faked a punch to the left and threw a real one to the right, which caught Dax in the shoulder. He stumbled and grabbed something in his jacket.

A knife. He was going to kill him.

But Bellamy didn’t back down, even as Dax held the knife in clear view.

“Couldn’t finish it yourself, could you? Had to bring some help.” His voice was rough and surrounded by his heavy breathing. Clarke wanted to hear it again. She wanted him to talk like that forever. Closer. Right beside her.

She hated the thought. This was _Bellamy_. The same boy she’s grown up with, the same boy she’s hated for years. And besides, he was going to get himself killed. That’s what she should be focusing on. Not the way his hair curled around his ears as sweat dripped off of him. Or the sound of his voice and the way it left goosebumps along her skin.

Dax swung the knife towards Bellamy, who swiftly dodged. He attacked again and this time, Bellamy wasn’t as quick. The knife caught him across the stomach, tearing both his white T-short and the skin underneath.

He fell onto his knees with a groan. One of his hands came up to cover the wound as he spit blood onto the ground beside him. His eyes were squeezed shut, pain radiating across his face.

That was it.

“Dax stop!” Clarke yelled. If anyone was still watching the fight, her voice got their attention. She saw Bellamy’s eyes flash as he spotted her, the anger on his face becoming fury. He clenched his jaw and shook his head.

Dax hardly spared her a glance. “You got something to say, Griffin?”

“Yeah. You’re a coward.” Someone behind her added a large amount of pressure to her back, jolting her forward. Her stomach tightened around the fear that came with being this close to Dax, but she crossed her arms and stood tall. “You’re hiding behind a knife.”

“Clarke,” Bellamy warned, his voice laced with pain.

“You’ll kill him. And everyone will see just how pathetic you are.”

“Because you know every right from wrong, don’t you Daddy’s Girl?” Dax spit.

Her expression must’ve changed drastically because just as she started towards him, hands wrapped around her upper arms, holding her in place. She fought against them without her eyes ever leaving Dax. “Screw you.”

He turned to her then, grinning. “Look at that. Griffin has a backbone. Let’s see if you can last longer than Blake.”

“Don’t touch her,” Bellamy growled. He was trying to stand up and Clarke saw the blood dripping around his hand against his shirt. It shouldn’t be that big of a deal. Bellamy fights a lot. He gets hurt a lot. He bleeds a lot.

Clarke’s seen it a hundred times. But never up close like this. Never when she could do something about it. It made her blood press against her skin, begging her to do something to help unleash the anger.

But she never gets the chance. Mr. Kane is suddenly in the middle of the fight, yelling at the students to return to their seats. A different teacher comes and helps Bellamy stand and walks him to the doctor’s office. Mr. Kane takes the knife from Dax and escorts him to the principal’s office, probably to be “floated,” as the students call it. Otherwise known as expelled.

Clarke is left standing in the middle of the courtyard alone. She focused on her inhales and exhales, trying to douse the fire that had grown underneath her skin. There was nothing she could do now. She missed her chance.

Monty came up to her a few seconds later, telling her he was the one to get the teachers.

“Why did you do that, Clarke? Why get in the middle of it? Bellamy can handle himself.”

“Dax had a knife.”

“And what were you going to do against it?”

“I…I don’t know.”

That was the truth. Clarke didn’t know why she got involved. It just made Bellamy angrier and she did nothing against Dax. What would she have done against his knife? She wasn’t a fighter. She knew how, but she just…didn't fight. Why has she thought to start now?

She wanted to protect Bellamy. He didn’t need her protection, didn’t want it. He’d never had it before. But this wasn’t before. This was now and Clarke didn’t want him to get hurt. She didn’t want to see his blood and know she could’ve done something to stop it.

It was only natural that after knowing and living with each other for nine years, Clarke would care about Bellamy. And she does. She knows that. But she never went out of her way to show it. She never told him or defended him or got between him and another fighter.

Something was going on with her.

It wasn’t something she liked.


	7. Time starts to pass, before you know it you're frozen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was fun to write. Angst is always fun. Unless, of course, it contains one part of your ship shooting the other part of your ship and leaving them there to die without even a "May we meet again." So...  
> Also, this is the last chapter that is pre-written. I've started the next one and it should be up sometime this week. I have online school that takes up a lot of my time but I do want to be consistent. Every week, I should have another chapter out, probably sometime around Monday or Tuesday. Please feel free to comment suggestions and different ideas for this fanfiction. I'd really appreciate it.

After a call to her mother explaining what happened, Abby let Clarke drive the Rover home from school. Bellamy had been sent to the ER for his wound, but the school nurse assured Clarke it wasn’t too serious. The school just didn’t have the right equipment to sew him up probably.

Octavia barely let Clarke take a step into the manor before she threw herself at her. “What happened with Bellamy? Is he okay? Abby said he was stabbed.”

“Woah, slow down. Bellamy’s fine. He got into a fight, but the knife only scratched him. He wasn’t stabbed.” Clarke said, dropping her backpack off to the side. With her arms now free, Octavia rushed into them, squeezing Clarke as if she were the one who had been hurt. “He’s okay,” she whispered into the younger girl’s ear. “He’s okay.”

She heard Octavia’s shaky breaths and she was crying. She just kept repeating the words.

After a while, she forgot who she was trying to reassure more.

The two girls spent the rest of the day in Clarke’s room, doing their homework together then watching TV until Octavia fell asleep. Clarke stayed awake most of the night, occupying herself with one thing or another. Her thoughts kept her up, the day replaying in her mind, slamming different ways the fight could’ve gone against the walls of her brain. She fell asleep eventually.

The next day, Abby allowed them to skip school and wait for Bellamy to be released. It almost made up for her not allowing them to visit him. Almost.

Clarke drove the Rover to pick him up, Octavia in the backseat. Both released a breath as he came out of the front doors of the ER. Bellamy looked like he always did. He wore his black military jacket over a new, bloodless shirt and jeans. Black curls formed a halo around his head, blocking his forehead and the top of his eyes.

He was walking like normal, maybe with a slight limp on his left leg. But he smiled when he saw the Rover, which made Clarke do the same.

“You okay?” she asked as he slid into the seat beside her.

He nodded without looking at her, then turned to face Octavia. “Hey, O.”

“Bell, you’re such an idiot!” But Octavia’s voice was filled with relief.

“Nice to see you too.” He laughed.

Clarke was glad to see the two of them happy, especially after watching Octavia cry most of the day before. But Bellamy didn’t look at her the whole ride home, giving one-word answers to any questions she thought to ask. Her grip on the steering wheel tightened with each one. What was his problem?

She didn’t get the chance to ask.

He ignored her for the rest of the week. With his injury, he was supposed to stay home for at least a week, so Clarke was given permission to drive herself to school and back. He stayed in his room most of the time, only coming out for food or to talk to Octavia. There was no teasing, no pranks, no sly comments, or sarcastic quips. Clarke remembered what it was like nine years ago when the Blakes first moved in. Except now she had Octavia, who did just about everything she could to stay out of the current situation.

She wouldn’t tell Clarke why Bellamy was avoiding her or if she even knew. Clarke had to respect it, even though she didn’t like it.

That was another thing. She didn’t understand why she didn’t like it. She should be celebrating, doing whatever she wants without worrying about Bellamy giving her hell about it. For once, he was leaving her alone.

But Clarke didn’t like it. No one would. Who liked being avoided?

So, she became determined to put an end to it.

It was Friday, which was usually the day she went to Azgeda, an old bar that’s surprisingly still open, despite the multiple health code violations. She’d stay a few hours, talk to girls, flirt with guys, and most importantly, she’d drink. It was the one night she let go of everything else. The rest of the week, she was always holding back, always having to choose her battles. Even as she acted out and went against her mother, she never felt as free and in control as when she was drunk on a Friday night.

Tonight, she stayed home instead. Clarke knew Bellamy would think she was gone and let down his guard.

And maybe she had Octavia tell him she was going out.

But he never left his room. So, Clarke decided to hell with it. If she got the question out of the way and the conversation over with, they could go back to hating each other face-to-face.

It was late when she finally knocked on his bedroom door. As she waited for a response, she played with the frayed edge of her large sweater. It wasn’t because of nerves. Of course not. She was just impatient.

A minute later, there was still no response, so she knocked again. No response.

She opened the door anyway and walked in.

Bellamy was sitting on his bed with a huge book in his lap. It was a book of Greek myths and stories. Clarke recognized it from when he would read it to Octavia or have it standing away from the other books on his shelf. It was his prize possession.

He looked up when she came in, surprise melting into an annoyed glare. “If someone doesn’t answer the first time, Clarke—”

“What’s your problem, Blake?” She crossed her arms and stood tall.

Bellamy set his book down on the nightstand and slid his feet off the side of the bed. “My problem?” he scoffed. “You’re the one who came barging in here—”

“Like you’ve never done that before. Quit trying to change the topic. You’re avoiding me.”

“I’m not.”

“Bull.”

His jaw clenched. That same anger from the fight was coming back, growing like vines on a tree. Clarke heard her breaths shake and she knew she was becoming just as angry.

“You’re right, Clarke. I’m avoiding you. What, I thought you’d be pleased? Now you only have to deal with one Blake.”

She dropped her arms. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the fight. What the hell were you thinking?”

“The fight? That’s what this is about? Damn, Blake, I knew you were hit hard but brain damage?”

Bellamy shook his head and stood up, easily towering over Clarke. “You got in the middle of something that wasn’t your business. Dax and I had a score to settle. Then you came and screwed it up.”

Ok, that hurt. But she wasn’t about to let him know that.

“Look, I would’ve let him kill you. Truly. But I didn’t think Octavia deserved to lose you. Were you thinking about her when you taunted the guy with a knife?”

“Don’t bring Octavia into this.”

“So, that’s a no.”

“Clarke,” he warned. Just like during the fight. She was sick of him warning her. Sick of him acting as if _she_ were the one in the wrong. It wasn’t her fault. She took a step closer to stand her ground, only then realizing how close they’d both gotten. A foot or two of space remained, the air between them crackling like lightning strikes.

“Clarke, _what?_ How is this my fault?”

“You shouldn’t have gotten involved.”

It was her turn to scoff. “I can do whatever—”

“God, Clarke, you don’t get it, do you? Dax wouldn’t have stopped. He would’ve killed you. Killed both of us.”

His words were like water across the flames under her skin. She lost the fight that had been building up since she entered his room. In a quieter voice, she said, “That’s why I had to stop him.”

Bellamy exhaled; his breath was warm against her face. Then he stepped back and went to his bed, sitting with his legs hanging off the side like before.

Clarke guessed she should leave. She knew now why he was avoiding her, even if she didn’t fully understand it. Hopefully talking about it had caused him to let go of the weird grudge against her. The problem was mostly solved.

But something about the way Bellamy sat, like all the fight had drained out of him, like defeat. It made Clarke stay and ask, “Can I see it?”

He met her eyes, a question, then nodded. She did the same, then bent down by his legs and slowly lifted his shirt high enough to see the wound. He didn’t stop her. In fact, he helped unwrap the long white bandage covering most of his stomach.

The cut had just started to close, and Clarke realized just how deep it was. Just how much it probably hurt. Just how close she had come to losing him.

Octavia. How close Octavia had come.

He wasn’t Clarke’s to lose.

Without thinking, she reached her hand out and gently touched the tanned skin around the injury, as if to prove that he was here and only part of him was hurt. She heard him inhale sharply and his hand grabbed her arm on instinct. Clarke retracted her touch with a quiet, “Sorry.”

Bellamy shook his head slowly. “It’s ok.” His eyes were on her. They were darker than she’d ever seen them, the brown in them barely visible against the black.

His hand didn’t move from her arm, as if trying to keep her close. As if he wanted her to stay. The warmth from his touch caused an image to form in her mind against her will. Her own eyes drifted from his and over his mouth, his lips.

This wasn’t weird or awkward. Why wasn’t it weird?

“Octavia was right,” she said, just above a whisper. “You are an idiot.”

Bellamy laughed. The tension broke. Clarke met his eyes again.

“You’re running out of insults, princess.” He loosened his hold on her arm but didn’t let go. “They’re getting predictable.”

“I can be very unpredictable.” But the words didn’t come out how she planned them.

“I don’t doubt that.”

Clarke smiled. She stood up and Bellamy released his hold. “Well, I’m glad we…talked. So, if you start ignoring me again, I’ll punch your lights out.”

He nodded and she left.

Neither of them thought about why Clarke had cared he’d avoided her. Neither of them saw it as anything other than it was. But once again, they didn’t talk about it.

Because after all, it was easier to hate someone than let them in. The risk was too great.


	8. We're all strangers fighting in the street with no common ground

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is coming out later than I planned because I currently just moved into a new house and it has taken up all my time. But for now on, my chapters should come out on Mondays or Tuesdays, depending on the schoolwork and responsibilities given to me this week.  
> Also, I changed the name of the bar Clarke goes to because I felt Azgeda matched it better. Cool? Cool.  
> NEW NOTE: I added on to this chapter so that it's a little longer and doesn't end in a weird place

“What are you supposed to do when people sing Happy Birthday at you?” Clarke asked, trying to wipe deodorant off the armpit of her dress.

Octavia stood beside her and admired herself in the mirror in front of them. “Ok, first off, they’re singing it _to_ you. And second, you…well, you kind of just…” she dragged off.

“Exactly. It’s so awkward. Please promise me you’ll tell me in there is something in my teeth before they start.” The white stain was stubborn, but she finally wiped enough of it away.

It was the day before her birthday and her mother had gone all out, like every year. There was to be a party at the manor, filled with just about everyone Abby knows. Clarke had almost invited Jasper and Monty, before thinking better of it. This party was more of a publicity stunt than anything. Instead, they all planned to meet up later that day and hang out at Azgeda. She and Finn would hang out tomorrow, on her actual birthday.

So Bellamy and Octavia were the only ones at the party she knew.

Clarke looked at herself in the mirror. She wore a black spaghetti-strapped jumpsuit that stopped mid-thigh and looked like a dress. A thin silver belt wrapped around her waist and black combat boots covered her feet. She wanted to wear her black leather jacket, but Octavia had said it was too much.

The younger girl wore black jeans and a dark purple shirt that tied. She’d invited Atom, which explained why she was practically bouncing on her toes. Honestly, Clarke was just as excited to see Finn. They’d barely talked all week because one of his relatives had just come into town and their arrival was taking up all his time. But she’d see him at Azgeda and they’d talk. Maybe do a little of something else too.

The two girls finished getting ready and went downstairs, where Clarke’s mother was greeting the first group of guests. They found Bellamy in the kitchen. He was eating out of a bag of chips and neither girl hesitated to steal some as they waited.

More and more guests arrived. More and more faces that Clarke didn’t recognize and gifts she didn’t really want. Usually, she ended up giving over half of them to Octavia and maybe a couple to Bellamy, depending on what they were. She should be grateful for the big party, a large number of gifts, the attention. But it reminded her of her dad and her life before he left.

He’d always make her birthday special, even if it was with something small. One year, they sat in her room together and painted all day. They’d eaten popcorn and chocolate milk as her favorite movie played in the background. Clarke has spent most of the day on the same painting, trying to get it perfect. It was for her dad, a picture of the universe, which he’d always said he found so interesting. She never finished it and to this day, it still sat in her bottom desk drawer, waiting to be complete.

He’d painted her a castle. It hung on the wall beside her bed. It had meant the world to her then, that her dad had been just as interested in painting as her. Abby always told her painting was just a hobby. A distraction from what really mattered. But Jake…he understood.

A different year on her birthday, she and her dad had gone walking. They packed waters and soda and trail mix. Clarke wore her new tennis shoes and a jacket.

All they did was walk. Down streets, across bridges, through forests. It was an adventure with no destination. They talked the entire time about little, insignificant things. Clarke told him about school and which classes she hated, which she loved. What grade she got on her latest test. Which kid pulled her pigtails most recently.

Her father talked about work and his office. He told her about all the different gifts he had there from her, including countless pictures and homemade jewelry.

When they finally made it back home, Clarke was so tired she fell asleep on her bed before she could take a shower.

“Is it too late to tell them all it’s your birthday?” Clarke groaned as another huge group of guests entered the kitchen. The good thing about them being here for Abby was that none of them felt obligated enough to come up to her and talk.

“They would’ve come if it were for me.” Bellamy took another sip of his drink.

“Exactly. It’ll get them to leave.”

“You do realize your mom is still pissed at you, right? Just ‘cause you’re not grounded anymore doesn’t mean that can’t change.”

She squinted at him. “And you care because…”

“Because believe it or not, princess, I don’t actually _like_ driving you around everywhere.”

“Ouch, Blake.” But she understood. It was no fun for either of them. They already lived together. Any time they could spend apart should be utilized. “It’s not like I’m going to do anything to cause her wrath. I’m just…speculating.”

Bellamy sighed, tilting his cup towards himself, then away. “How about this? You survive for a couple of and I’ll let you sneak out the back with me when I leave.”

“Deal.” Clarke didn’t ask where he was going, even though part of her was dying to know. But it didn’t matter. It wasn’t like today was her _actual_ birthday. Even if it was, he could leave whenever and go wherever he wants. None of her business.

Turns out, surviving a couple of hours wasn’t as hard as Clarke had thought. Her mom kept everyone busy, talking about politics and the latest gossip. She was good at that, being a politician. Clarke wondered if she ever turned it off.

“Ok, let’s go,” she said exactly two hours later, on the dot. Bellamy had just come back into the kitchen from who-knows-where and she knew he had to be just as ready to leave.

“Let me grab Octavia and we’ll leave.”

Octavia and he had plans? The day before her birthday? Of course. That was normal. Completely normal. It wasn’t like she invited them to her plans for the night either. It was only fair they made their own.

Clarke nodded and went outside to stand by the Rover while she waited.

It wasn’t until she was walking through the entrance to Azgeda and Bellamy was driving off that she wished she’d invited them. Which was stupid.

Almost as stupid as the plastic crown Jasper handed her that read “Birthday Princess” the minute she walked through the door. It was small, silver, and stupid. Clarke immediately loved it. After placing it on her head at an angle, Jasper led her to the other side of the bar where Monty was waiting.

Technically, all three of them were underage. They shouldn’t even be allowed to enter Azgeda, let alone drink the beverages provided. But Roan, the owner, and Clarke had come to an agreement. Abby had tried shutting down Azgeda multiple times during her term as governor and Roan hardly had the means to fight back. It wasn’t like his bar was the place to be, not when Mount Weather was just down the street. The only people who came into his place were the troublemakers who had already been kicked out of everywhere else. It reminded Clarke of her school and she often wondered how she ended up surrounded by criminals and rejects.

Then she remembers her mom and everything she’d put Clarke through, which makes living this kind of life doesn’t seem as bad anymore. As long as it kicks Abby in the gut when anyone mentions her “perfect daughter.”

Clarke had heard about Abby’s attempts to shut down Azgeda on the news because that’s where Clarke learned everything about her mother. In an attempt to get back at her, Clarke had met with Roan, telling him that if he allowed her and her friends to hang out in his bar, she’d persuade her mom to let the whole issue drop.

At first, he threatened her. He said he’d kidnap her and use her for ransom against her mom. But he was all talk and when Clarke didn’t back down, knowing her mom probably wouldn’t even notice she was gone, Roan agreed to the deal.

Clarke had managed to convince her mom to let Azgeda stay open by agreeing to behave for a month. Which meant no fights, no partying, no drinking, nothing that would reflect badly on Abby. And once the month was up, Clarke spent most of her time at Azgeda. Even though she didn’t start drinking there until a year later, the place became a getaway. She and Roan even became friends. It was nice.

When Jasper and Clarke reached Monty, the three of them sat and broke out into conversation. They didn’t talk about Clarke’s birthday and neither boy had brought a present. They knew about her dad and how special he had made her birthday each year. They understood why she didn’t like to celebrate it or acknowledge it further than the crown on top of her head. They also knew she hated presents, especially from them because she knew they couldn’t afford it. She was rich. If she wanted something, she’d buy it.

Occasionally, they’d give each other personal things. A bracelet one of them made with old string and beads. A handmade pot that looked more like an eroded rock. A silver birthday crown.

Clarke loved Jasper and Monty and they loved her. That was enough.

“I’m gonna fail science,” Jasper said, resting his head in his hands. “I’m just…it’s gonna happen.”

“How do you fail science?” Clarke asked. She squinted at him. “You create drugs.”

“Shhh! Shush. They aren’t _drugs_. They’re happiness enhancers. They make the world spin brighter.”

Clarke looked at Monty, who nodded. “Technically, that’s true.”

“Sure. Until you get caught selling them again. Then they’re drugs. “

Monty looked at Jasper, who raised his head. “That’s also true.”

“Whatever. The fact is, science is kicking my ass.”

“Is there anyone in your class who can tutor you? I’d offer but I don’t remember the last time I actually went to science.” Clarke shrugged.

“Well, there’s this girl. Her name’s Maya.”

Clarke’s mouth dropped. “And you’re just telling me this now?” She playfully slapped his arm. “What’s she like?”

Jasper’s face changed as he began to talk about her. Maya had dark brown hair and “flawless skin like a sheep” as Jasper put it. She was sweet and quiet, always trying to help him in any way she can. She wears something pink every day, whether it’s her shirt or just a pink bracelet on her wrist. It’s the only color Jasper can see clearly when he shows up to class high. Which Maya doesn’t mind, apparently. She thinks it makes him brave and carefree.

But as interesting as Maya seemed, it was Jasper who Clarke was focused on as he described her. His eyes looked brighter and clearer than ever, as if just the thought of her sobered him up completely. A huge smile took up most of his face. One he didn’t share often. It was obvious how much he liked this girl and Clarke couldn’t help but smile too.

Though she knew it was probably a selfish thought, she wondered if that’s how Finn looked when he talked about her.

“She sounds amazing,” Clarke said once Jasper finished. “You should ask her out.”

“Maybe.”

“Definitely,” Monty said. He was smiling too.

Jasper ducked his head. “Whatever. Let’s drink. I could use a drink.”

“Me too.” Clarke agreed, then turned to face the bar in front of her. Most of the time, Harper was working, a girl that goes to their high school. But Clarke only knew her because she was Monty’s girlfriend. And the nicest person in the world.

But she wasn’t working now. In her place, at the other end of the bar, was a new girl who looked about their age. Her brown hair was pulled back into a perfect ponytail with a braid on the side. She wore a dark red jacket and a necklace with some weird origami animal hanging off it. With her hand on her hip and a smile on her face, she looked beautiful but badass.

Clarke liked her already.

“Hey, bartender!” she yelled over the music and other voices. It got the girl’s attention and she came over. Her name tag read _Raven_.

“Hey, what can I get you guys?”

“Everything,” Jasper said.

“A beer,” Monty corrected, rolling his eyes. “Two beers actually. Thanks.”

Raven nodded. “And you?”

“Vodka,” Clarke said.

She laughed. “What’s the special occasion?”

“Birthday. Absentee parents. It’s a whole thing.”

Raven’s laugh died out and she gave Clarke a long, almost knowing look. She wondered if Raven was going to say anything about her age. But both of them were too young to be here. It didn’t matter what side of the bar they were on. Instead, Raven smiled. “I get it,” she said. Then she left to go fix their drinks.

Clarke turned back to her friends, who had engaged in an argument over which kind of alcohol was best. It was a grossly inappropriate topic for two teenage boys and Clarke couldn’t help but think about where other kids their age spent their time. Sure, some of them were probably hanging out at other bars, namely Mount Weather. But the rest, the normal ones who did what they were supposed to and didn’t spend their time getting in trouble, Clarke wondered about them. 

She wondered if that’s what she would be like if her mother wasn’t who she is. Maybe Clarke would spend her spare time playing sports or in the chess club. Maybe she would study and take notes and care about her grades instead of skipping every other class. Maybe she’d have more friends who asked her to go to amusement parks or roller skating because they enjoyed her company. 

Maybe Clarke would be a whole different person. A spoiled, privileged, naïve princess untouched by the hardships and disasters of life. She would be who she was as a child and not who she grew up becoming. 

Were those the other two options though? A battered, damaged life full of bad decisions, rebellious acts, and breaking her mother’s rules? Or a sheltered life planned out for her by politics, the public eye, and eggshells she’s forced to walk on? 

Clarke closed her eyes, damning that line of questions to hell. This was her life. She dug her grave a long time ago. She condemned herself. She was to blame. 

Still…she couldn’t help but wonder. 

The sound of glass hitting the bar in front of her caused her eyes to snap open. Raven was back with their drinks and Jasper had slammed his beer on the bar after a quick sip. His face showed his struggle against the sting from the alcohol and he broke into a coughing fit, which Monty tried to remedy by hitting him on the back. 

“Here you go,” Raven said as she handed Clarke her drink. 

“Thanks.” 

“No problem.” 

“To the birthday girl!” Monty toasted. 

“To Clarke!” Jasper cheered. 

The three of them clashed their drinks together before jugging them. Clarke heard Raven chuckle in amusement before leaving to serve other customers. She must’ve had some agreement with Roan as well to work here, considering her age. Maybe Clarke could get a job here. 

The thought of it made her finish her drink. 

It wasn’t until she, Monty, and Jasper were several drinks in that a young man slipped into the seat next to Clarke’s. It wouldn’t have been weird if there hadn’t been so many other open seats. She immediately became wary of him. 

“Can I help you?” she asked. The slur in her words did not help her attempt at a cold, uninterested approach. 

The young man’s eyes slid from her face to something above her head. “'Birthday Princess’, huh? Maybe I could give you a gift.” Even drunk, Clarke could tell the intent behind his words. She looked at Monty and Jasper, expecting them to say something, even though she didn’t need defending. But Jasper’s head was laying on the bar and Monty was counting something on his fingers, looking confused. 

She turned back to the young man. “Get lost. I’m not interested.” 

“I’ve seen you in here before, I think. Aren’t you a little young to be drinking?” 

“Dude, I said get out.” 

His hand shot out and gripped her wrist, pulling her closer and nearly off her seat. Her eyes went wide and she fought against his hold. The pain brought with it a sudden wave of sobriety, allowing fear to creep in. “You don’t mean that. You want this, don’t you, princess?” 

Princess. The word replayed in her mind, but it was from a different voice. The voice of the young man she wished was here right now. 

“Murphy, let her go.” Raven was suddenly across the bar from them. He turned to look at her and Clarke saw her opening. She threw her head forward and it collided with his. The impact threw them both off balance and he fell to the floor. Clarke was able to hold on to her seat but was blinded a moment by the pain now surging through her head. 

Murphy recovered quicker and grabbed her again. People were noticing now. Monty was making his way off his seat and Jasper lifted his head. Other customers were starting to watch. 

Clarke blindly threw a punch, only to miss and hit her hand against the bar. Murphy laughed at her futile attempt and used his other hand to grab her hair. Then Raven was there and both of his hands were off of Clarke. It gave her enough time to see clearly again. 

Someone else had taken Murphy’s side and it was the two of them against Raven. She broadened her stance, ready to fight. She ducked at Murphy’s punch and landed one of her own on his lower chest, knocking the air out of him. He kicked out at her, using a chair for balance. Raven avoided, then advanced, but Clarke’s view of them was blocked by Murphy’s sudden ally. 

A warm liquid began to run down the side of her face and the thought of her standing there, drunk, dazed, and bleeding, made the blood still within her body boil. 

She rushed at the other person, knocking them down with just her body weight. He threw his arm at her, a lame attempt at a punch, and Clarke caught his hand. She twisted it with all her strength until something snapped and the man yelled out in pain. She kicked his shin as hard as she could and he went down, almost in sync with Murphy as Raven pinned him to the ground with her high heeled boot. 

Another fight had broken out on the other side of the bar. Violence always seemed to spread, Clarke noticed. But she was too high on adrenaline and victory to care. 

She and Raven were both breathing heavily, sweat running down their faces and arms. Without looking away from the man she had just beat, Clarke held a fist out to Raven. “I’m Clarke.” 

The other girl looked at her, an amused smile breaking out across her face. “Raven,” she said, bumping her fist against Clarke’s. “Nice to meet you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really want to dive into Raven and her part in the story. Quick question: do you like short or long chapters better? Please comment, along with suggestions or storyline ideas you might want to see. Thanks!


	9. A red rose grew up out of ice frozen ground

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ: I added onto the previous chapter so that it didn't end in such a weird place. Please go back and read that addition first or some parts in this chapter won't make sense.  
> Now that most of the relationships are established, things are about to get good. I'm finally getting the chance to write what I originally planned. Yay!  
> Also, for anyone reading this who is a fan of Murphy, please don't turn away. I love his character and he'll get better, I promise.  
> TW: panic attack

Clarke was conflicted.

It was her birthday and there she stood, staring at herself in her bathroom mirror. She and Finn had plans for the day, most of which he had kept a surprise, and Clarke had dressed for whatever occasion. She wore her favorite dark blue dress and flats with her hair pulled up in a fancy ponytail. All that was missing were the bruises.

Hence her conflict.

It’s not like she wanted bruises on her skin, displaying just what kind of “fun” she had last night at the bar. They would just raise questions and cause nothing but trouble. Finn would scold her for being reckless and become overly protective. Bruises were just dark, ugly reminders of her bad choices.

But a small part of her had hoped she’d have at least _one_.

She doesn’t fight. Yes, she knows how and yes, it could be fun from time to time. But she usually fought her battles with sarcasm and cold indifference. Still, she left that fight a victor and having made a new friend. Maybe she wanted a small reminder of that. All she had was a couple of bloody knuckles that she’d wrapped in bandages herself.

Raven had left the bar that night with a cut lip and a few red spots along her arms that Clarke knew would be blue and purple soon. The two girls had exchanged phone numbers and promised to look for each other in the halls of Skikru on Monday. It excited Clarke to think about having a girl friend. She had Octavia. She’s always had Octavia and though she loved the younger girl to death, Clarke needed someone who could relate to her problems at her own age. And Raven seemed like the perfect person to talk to.

Clarke’s phone rang from beside the sink and she immediately picked it up.

“Hey, Clarke.” Finn’s voice came from the other end. Clouded by her excitement, Clarke didn’t notice the slight pause in his voice.

“Hi, Finn. You almost here?” “Clarke…my relative—I told you before that she was staying with us.”

Now she heard it. The uncertainty, the regret. He was canceling on her. Last minute. Again. “You said she was in town for a couple of days and you had to take care of her. But that was before, Finn. This is my birthday.” She sounded pathetic, even to herself. Her brain screamed at her heart not to say anything else. The more she said, the more she gave away and exposed herself. She couldn’t do that. She wouldn’t.

“She needs me today. It was last minute and I didn’t expect it. I’m so, so sorry, Clarke.”

She steeled her voice. _She didn’t care. She didn’t care. She didn’t care._ “It’s fine. We can do something next weekend…or something.”

“Yes! I promise I’ll make it up to you next weekend. We’ll have dinner, go on a walk. It’ll be just like it was supposed to be today.”

Every word pounded against her heart until it felt too heavy for her body to support. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling her mascara clash with her oncoming tears. Any second, she’d collapse. Maybe hit her head and realize this was all a dream. A heart-breaking, miserable dream.

“Yeah…ok. Bye, Finn.”

“Bye.”

Clarke didn’t move the phone away from her ear even after she heard him hang up. She squeezed it in her hand, the buttons on the side pressing against her palm. Her body was shaking. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t get a breath in around her sobs. The walls of the room around her were getting closer, boxing her in and forcing themselves against her.

Her dad left. Her mom was gone. Now Finn.

Clarke felt like she was drowning. Like she was being held underwater while those around her floated to the surface. She was helpless as everyone swam away without looking back.

 _Well_ , she reminded herself in an attempt to stay calm, _not everyone_.

The next thing she knew, she was standing in Octavia’s bedroom threshold, holding herself together as best she could so she didn’t overwhelm the girl. Octavia laying on her bed reading and she looked up with a smile.

“Woah, Clarke you look so—” She stopped midsentence. She must’ve seen Clarke's face, the mascara stained tears and red, puffy eyes. Her book was soon discarded on the nightstand and Clarke was beside her on the bed. The sobs came full force now with nothing holding them back.

Octavia didn’t say anything. She didn’t ask about Clarke’s plans or why she was dressed up or why she was crying. She just held Clarke’s head and rubbed her shoulder as she cried.

Her birthday had always meant so much to her. It was the one day she got her mom’s attention. The one day her father put her above everything else without worrying about the consequences. Growing up, despite all the fame and money and people who wanted to be around her, Clarke never felt stuck up or arrogant. In fact, sometimes she even hated herself. Hated who she was and who others wanted her to be. She hated her life and then hated being ungrateful for that same privileged life.

But on her birthday, Clarke was enough. The world paused for a day and nothing was ever wrong.

It was so _stupid_ that a boy could ruin that for her.

After a while, breathing became easier as the sobs slowed to a stop and occasional hiccups took their place. Octavia was still silent, probably waiting for Clarke to relax completely before asking any sensitive questions. Clarke appreciated the silence and felt a little lighter because of how well the younger girl knew her.

“Thank you,” she mumbled. She lifted her head to look at her. “I’m a mess at the moment.”

Octavia shared a small smile. “What happened?”

“Finn. He canceled. Last minute. I don’t know…it’s stupid.”

“That’s not stupid. I mean, what he did was and he is. But you crying about it isn’t stupid. It’s human.” Her eyes were dark and focused on Clarke as if she could burn her words into her brain. _It’s not stupid. It’s human._

“I just can’t believe he did it again. The times before didn’t matter, you know? We were just going to hang out or talk. But today of all days?” Clarke fell backward to lay on the bed. She started to count the stars on the ceiling to keep from crying again. It wasn’t like Finn canceled all the time. Usually, he followed through. It was just as occasional “something came up” or “can we do it tomorrow?”

“Well, you know Bellamy doesn’t like him. Maybe that’s why.” Octavia laid down beside her and tossed her hair to land on Clarke’s face.

She laughed, moving the black strands out of her way. “No, he hates Finn because of baseball. Some rivalry for the coach’s attention.”

“I don’t think so. But Bellamy only likes a couple of people. He’s picky.”

“He’s a jerk.”

“He tries to be.”

“He succeeds.” Octavia giggled at that and it caused Clarke to smile. She loves making her laugh or brighten her mood. It often helps her own as well.

“What did you and he do yesterday? After we left Abby’s party?”

“Honestly? We went gift shopping. I decided last minute that I was going to get you something. And yes, I know—” she added when Clarke started to protest. “you don’t like presents or a big fuss. But you’re my sister. I get to buy you something.”

Clarke sighed but smiled. She bumped her shoulder into Octavia’s as a way of saying thanks.

“Besides, things are changing soon. You’ll finish high school in two years and I’ll be stuck living with Bellamy alone.”

“It won’t be that bad. He likes you. And I’ll visit every chance I get.”

“He likes you too, believe it or not, and I know you like him. Yet, you both make each other miserable. I don’t have much to look forward to.” Her light tone implied she was joking, but her words rang true. Clarke just refused to focus on them.

She sighed again and sat up. “I’m going to go change. Then take a nap. When I wake up, you and I are getting Starbucks. Okay?”

“Definity!” Octavia shot up too, smiling from ear to ear. “I’m dying for coffee.”

As Clarke stood up, she smoothed out her dress and matched the young girl’s smile. “Whip cream solves every problem.

When Clarke woke up a couple of hours later from her nap, she felt like a new person.

She didn’t let herself think about Finn and all his cancellations. She didn’t think about her dad and why he hadn’t called yet to wish her a happy birthday. She didn’t think about her mom or what politician she was probably lying to at the moment instead of being there for her daughter.

Instead, Clarke sat on the end of her bed and painted.

It was calming to watch the brushstrokes as they flooded the white canvas with color. The paintbrush became an extension of her arm, moving in tune with her mind as she imagined the picture she was trying to recreate. The world around her slowed until it ceased to exist. It was just Clarke and her paints.

She looked up as a knock on her door dragged her back into reality. Bellamy stood leaning against her doorframe, arms crossed and head tilted to the side. It was a common posture for him and Clarke was used to seeing him this way. This was normal. This was expected. It was exactly what Clarke needed.

“Did you get any paint on the actual canvas?” he asked. Clarke was confused by what he meant until he nodded towards her and she looked down. The paint was all over her sweats, her arms, her hands, and after some investigating, it had even wound up in her hair.

“I did, actually. I think it turned out pretty well.”

Bellamy didn’t ask to see her painting. He just lifted his head and said, “Come on.”

“'Come on’ where?”

A small grin graced his face, hidden partly by the shadow. “You’ll see. Come on.” He stepped back into the hallway and disappeared from view.

Had Octavia told him what happened? Had he figured out on his own? Maybe he was leading her into some sort of trap. A way of rubbing it in her face that her boyfriend stood her up. He’s told her before how wrong she was to date Finn, how much of a mistake she was making. But when Clarke had finally told him how much Finn meant to her, Bellamy dropped it.

Now he just made the occasional comment.

Trap or not, Clarke needed to get up anyway. Octavia was probably waiting on her to go get Starbucks as she’d promised. The thought of a cold caffeine beverage with whip cream and chocolate syrup on top made her quicken her pace as she slipped on her sandals and made her way downstairs.

But she stopped altogether when she was met with pure darkness. Not a single light was on downstairs and with the dark curtains and descending sun, there was no use trying to see anything.

“Bellamy? Why are the lights off?” she asked. Her hand found the closest wall and she began to feel for a light switch. She made it to what she thought was the living room before all of the lights came on at once, blinding her momentarily. After blinking a few times to clear her vision, Clarke saw that she was indeed in the living room.

But that wasn’t all.

Clarke’s lips parted slightly as she looked around. The large couches had been pushed to the center of the room, closer to the huge TV on the far wall. All of the curtains were shut so no light from outside came through and thin streamers colored different shades of green hung in front of them. A couple of balloons were scattered throughout the room and a handmade sign that “It’s Your Birthday, Deal with It” was taped to one of the walls.

The vintage popcorn machine that Abby kept in the garage was sitting in the corner, next to a small table full of Clarke’s favorite candy and drinks.

And there the Blake’s were. Octavia was standing under her birthday sign, biting her lip and bouncing on the edge of her feet. She was dressed in her favorite pajamas with a pillow in hand. Her smile seemed to grow brighter as Clarke looked at her.

Bellamy was sitting on one of the couches in sweatpants and an old baseball jersey he sometimes wore around the manor. With his head tossed back on the couch arm, his hair spread out around him like a black, curly halo. His dark eyes were on her and Clarke met them with a small, unbelieving smile.

The two of them had down this for her. They’d given up their day to give her something no one else could, even though they knew she didn’t like making a big deal of her birthday.

But this was perfect.

“I…I can’t believe you guys did this.” Clarke breathed, still struggling to take everything in.

“It wasn’t too hard,” Octavia said. She leaned against the back of the couch Bellamy was laying on.

He scoffed and pulled her hair. “You’re not the one who had to move the couches.”

“I hung everything.”

“With a stepladder.”

Clarke walked over to Octavia and pulled her in for a hug. “Thank you,” she said.

“Both of you,” Clarke added when the two girls broke apart.

Bellamy winked at her. Then he yawned and stretched, his arms and legs spilling over the edges of the couch. His baseball jersey rode up slightly and Clarke saw just a sliver of white bandage against tan skin. She wondered if the cut from Dax’s knife still hurt him at times.

Then she realized she was staring at his chest and turned back at Octavia.

“So, what movie are we watching?”

“You pick. I got all of them out and since it’s your birthday, you get to choose.”

“Just none of that sad, romance crap,” Bellamy said, getting from the couch. “No Notebook or Titanic.”

“Why? Afraid to shed some manly tears?” Clarke raised an eyebrow at him as a challenge.

He just rolled his eyes. “Last time we watched The Notebook, Octavia didn’t stop writing letters to her future husband for weeks. We couldn’t get her to do anything else, remember?”

They both turned to look at Octavia, who had found her way to the candy table and was proceeding to try and sneak at least half of it into her pockets. At their looks, she shrugged and stuffed some in her mouth. “I’m older now. More mature.”

“That was two months ago.” Bellamy crossed his arms, a grin tilting his mouth to the side.

“Well, I technically am older. But I promise not to do that again.”

Clarke smiled. “It’s ok, Octavia, I get it. You want to be in love.”

She nodded. “Yeah, of course. But more importantly, I want someone to be in love with me.”

Her words stopped Clarke cold, causing her smile to slowly fade. Finn flashed in her mind. His kind eyes and charming smile. His long hair and careful words. He’d been the one to say he loved her first and after consideration, she had said it back. But not once did she know what it meant.

Clarke loved Octavia as a sister and Monty and Jasper as brothers. She loved her father as the parent who tried. She even loved her mother because somewhere deep down, she almost admired her determination and objectivity.

And in some way, one she wasn’t quite sure about yet, she loved Bellamy.

But what did it mean to be in love? She certainly hadn’t known when she said she loved Finn. She cared about him, might’ve loved him to some degree. But she wasn’t _in_ love with him. Not yet. And she didn’t believe he was in love with her either.

Clarke realized she wanted that. She wanted someone to be in love with her. She wanted someone to light up like Jasper when talking about her. She wanted someone to kiss and hug and talk to about anything. She wanted to be loved by someone who wasn’t obligated to do so.

Clarke’s smile returned as she spoke. “That’s normal. I think almost everyone wants to be in love.”

She glanced at Bellamy. She didn’t mean to; she swears to herself. It just happened, naturally and instinctively. It didn’t mean anything. It was just to check if he was still listening. And he was.

In fact, he was already looking at her.

They both diverted their gaze.

Clarke sighed dramatically to change the topic and went to check out the array of movies. A few of her favorites stood out: all romances. Something told her that wasn’t the best idea. So, she decided on comedy.

“What about Home Alone? It’s getting kind close to Christmas anyway,” she asked, holding the movie up for them to see.

“It’s October,” Bellamy said.

“Exactly.”

“I love Home Alone!” Octavia squealed. “It’s so funny when the kid puts his hands on his face and screams. Like this!” She mimicked Kevin’s iconic scene. Thankfully, without the scream.

“I’ll set it up!”

While she did that, Clarke decided it was about time for candy and a drink. She walked over to the table and started loading her small plate. Bellamy came over soon after, filling his own paper bowl with popcorn. Neither said anything. Until—

Bellamy gently grabbed her left hand, the one wrapped in bandages from the fight. He pressed his fingers against the wrapping and Clarke wondered what he was looking for.

His eyes met hers. A silent question.

“At Azgeda yesterday. There was a fight. I didn’t start it.”

“Bought you fought.” This time, he wasn’t asking.

“Yeah. I threw a punch. It missed. Humiliating, I know.” She thought about pulling her hand back, to keep grabbing candy and pretend nothing happened.

“You don’t fight.” Bellamy was further away from the popcorn machine and closer to her. She hadn’t noticed. Now she did.

“I do when I’m too drunk to think properly. Besides, I made a new friend out of it. And Monty and Jasper were there to back me up.” Clarke fought a cringe. He was probably going to scold her, telling her how stupid that was and how she was reckless and she did not feel like going through that right now.

But Bellamy just shook his head, a slight grin pulling on his lips. His eyes sparkled with amusement. “You win?”

“You bet I did.” _I had help_ , she thought. But at that moment, she didn’t want to share that.

“Alright then.”

Neither of them moved. Neither breathed.

Something was going on. Something Clarke didn’t know how to decipher or handle, but she didn’t want it to end. She was sick of the hate that constantly distanced them. She was sick of feeling like she had to be someone else around him, as if he didn’t already know exactly who she was.

His hand still held hers, his thumb lightly running over her skin.

Was she ready for this? Whatever it was? Could she handle the vulnerability that was embedded in Bellamy’s eyes when he looked at her? Could she handle the pull of her heart each time his skin touched hers?

She wondered when the hate between them had disappeared. Maybe it had never been there in the first place. Maybe they both knew it, but used that excuse to keep six feet apart.

“You guys ready?” Octavia’s voice bubbled with excitement. Clearly, she hadn’t looked at them before asking.

Clarke took one last look in Bellamy’s eyes, then smiled and said, “Yeah, we’re coming.” She walked backward a few steps before turning around.

Octavia had claimed the side couch, laying down and taking up the whole thing. Clarke sat on one side of the other couch and balanced her plate of candy on the armrest. She sat on her knees with her feet pulled up beside her and wrapped herself in a blanket placed beside the couch.

Bellamy came and sat on the other side of the couch; his popcorn bowl discarded for a soda. He laid his feet on the footrest in front of him and chose to go without a blanket. A decision Clarke knew he always ended up regretting.

With the lights off and the ceiling fan cooling down the air, Clarke suddenly felt exhausted, as if she hadn’t just taken a nap. She was able to focus on the beginning of the movie, watching Kevin get bullied by his siblings then left behind, but her mind started to drift off soon afterward.

She decided to stretch her legs out and place her feet beside Bellamy on the couch. He didn’t look up from the movie, even as his hand started massaging her feet through her socks. "Only because it's your birthday," he said, his gaze remaining forward.

Unfortunately, that didn’t help her focus on the movie at all and her eyelids became that much heavier. She laid her head on her arm and closed her eyes, listening to the sound of voices playing on the screen.

_Clarke noticed something was off about the snow right away. It didn’t fall gracefully through the air and it wasn’t a bright, white color. It was dark and grey, dropping from the sky like bombs without anything to slow them down._

_They were ashes._

_When she reached out to touch a pile that had gathered on the ground, it burned her hand like a flame and she screamed. But no one came. No one heard._

_Clarke watched as her hand became bloody and scarred. She waited for the pain to subside, for the fire burning beneath her skin to die out. Instead, it just grew fiercer._

_She looked up in search of water or real snow to cool off her hand. The manor stood before her, its walls crumbling in pieces and everything inside destroyed. Flames licked the edges of each room and ashes fled from the heat._

_Clarke’s home turned to ruins before her eyes. Everything she knew was gone. It was replaced by a cracked foundation struggling to keep itself up. She forced herself forward, walking through all that remained of where she once lived. Torn pictures fluttered in the wind, pieces of furniture roamed around the floor, and glass created a maze Clarke had to try and find her way out of._

_But with all the destruction around her, only one thing stuck out to her._

_A skeleton._

_As she stepped closer, Clarke saw that there were two of them, their fingers intertwined. One was her father’s height and build, half-buried in the ashes and fallen bricks. His watch laid beside the bones. The other was the shape of her mother and her fur coat rested beside her._

_They were dead—burned in the home they both abandoned._

_Clarke struggled to breathe. The air around her seemed to thicken, trapping her in place. A sudden sting of heat began at her feet and she looked down in a panic._

_Her clothes had caught fire. She was burning alive._

Clarke screamed and writhed in terror as she imagined the flames climbing up her body. She twisted one way, then the other, frantically trying to put out the fire and keep it from burning her skin. Her throat begged her to stop screaming, but she couldn’t control it. She wasn’t in control of anything.

Strong, powerful ropes wrapped around her body and her back was pressed up against something solid and warm. Clarke fought against it, trying to free herself. But the flames were gone. She wasn’t burning anymore.

“Shh. I’m right here. I’m right here, Clarke. It’s ok. Calm down.” A hushed voice broke through her dreams and brought a sense of reality with it. Clarke became conscious enough to recognize the ropes around her were arms and someone was holding her. A part of her still wanted to fight, to flair against the person. But the voice in her ear caused her screams to soften into breathy sobs.

It was Bellamy’s voice. They were his arms wrapped tightly around her. He was behind her, trying to hold her still.

“You’re ok. I’m right here. I’m right here, I promise. It’s ok.”

Clarke’s eyes were still shut but she stopped struggling. The adrenaline from her nightmare was fading as exhaust kicked in. Her legs went slack and her hands no longer pulled on his arms, though they stayed there, holding on for dear life.

She lowered her head into his arm and cried. Bellamy didn’t stop his whispered reassurances. He kept repeating the same things. She was ok. Everything was ok. He was there. It was ok.

His head leaned into the back of her shoulder. A warm, physical reassurance that he meant what he said. He was right there, keeping her grounded in reality as the last of her nightmare faded away.

A few minutes later, when her tears had stopped and she’d calmed down enough to think clearly, Clarke whispered, “I’m so sorry.” Her voice was scratchy from her screaming and crying. The words hurt to say.

Bellamy raised his head. “Shh. It’s ok. You did nothing wrong.”

“I woke you up. I…I did all of this.”

“This wasn’t your fault.”

Clarke laid back against his chest and he laid against the armrest. His arms still encircled her and she savored his warmth. She slowly opened her eyes. The two of them were on the couch in the living room. The lights and TV were all off and Octavia was gone. She and Bellamy must’ve fallen asleep during the movie. “All of this is my fault.”

He sighed and she knew he was choosing his next words carefully. Probably because there was a small chance she’d believe anything he said. When she thought he wouldn’t speak at all, Bellamy tightened his hold and murmured, “If you need forgiveness, I’ll give that to you. You’re forgiven.”

Clarke felt a small smile slip onto her face. He would never know how much those words meant to her or the relief they caused. He’d never know how much she needed to hear someone say that, after everything she’d done. He forgave her. It didn’t matter what everyone else thought.

Bellamy was giving her forgiveness. Something she thought she’d never receive again.

She turned her head towards him as a way to say thank you and that she understood what he meant.

A peaceful silence fell between them. They laid against each other, both lost in their own thoughts.

“I miss my dad,” Clarke said finally. Bellamy’s breath hitched and she knew she’d surprised him. It wasn’t something she openly admitted, even if it was obvious. “I just…I wish he hadn’t left.”

“He left because of your mom.”

“I know but he still left _me_. I wasn’t enough to make him stay. I should’ve…I should’ve been enough, Bell.” It was as if the barrier between them had disappeared. Clarke wanted to tell him everything. She wanted to be honest and open and damn the fear that came with being vulnerable. He had seen her at her worst, screaming and fighting her own imagination. He could handle her words.

“When my mom died…” Bellamy cleared his throat. “she’d been gone for a while. She was rarely ever conscious. She drank instead of eating. She was barely surviving when she died. It didn’t come as a surprise.”

Clarke pictured the Bellamy she’d met all those years ago, with his hard eyes and mean words. She’d known he had raised Octavia, that it had basically been the two of them their whole lives. But hearing it from Bellamy himself…it made it real. It made it heartbreaking.

“Parents suck.”

His chest vibrated against her back as he laughed. It made her smile. “Yeah, they do.”

“We have to promise each other never to leave, ok? For Octavia.” Clarke looked up at him as best as she could in their position. “She shouldn’t have to go through this.”

 _I can’t lose you too_ , she wanted to say. But it wouldn’t be right. Not now.

“I promise I’m not going anywhere, princess. You’re stuck with me.” Bellamy’s grin seemed to light up his tired eyes.

“Good.”

His earnest face matched hers. This was the beginning of something new. Something that’s been developing for years. Something beautiful.

Clarke turned back around, her exhaust returning. She closed her eyes again and said gently, “You’re stuck with me too.”

Just before reality slipped away again, she felt Bellamy gently kiss the top of her head and vaguely wondered if this was what love felt like. She hoped so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said, things are getting good. I'm really excited about the story from here on out. Please comment any thoughts or suggestions for the story. Thank you!


	10. Knockin' on heaven's door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know this chapter is super late. I really hope its length makes up for the delay. It's by far the longest chapter yet and my favorite. I was halfway through writing it and everything got deleted, so I started again from scratch. That's why this is coming out on a Friday instead of Monday or Tuesday. Because of this delay, my next chapter probably won't be until later next week but I promise to post something each week, no matter how small. I also don't know how many people are reading this weekly or are even looking forward to the updates so that makes it difficult to stay on track. But I really hope you guys like this chapter. I had the best time writing it. Enjoy!

“Well, look who’s back.” Raven’s teasing tone matched her smile as Clarke planted herself into one of the bar seats. She rested her head on her arm and closed her eyes.

It was a Thursday, one of Azgeda’s slower days, and there were small groups of people here and there, but for the most part, it was empty. Then there was the fact that it was the middle of a workday.

Clarke had decided to skip her last two classes as rumors spread of a pop quiz in one of them. She was kind of proud that she’d made it to lunch, seeing as a migraine had begun to imbed itself into her mind.

“I think I’m dying,” she grumbled. Her head ached like she was hungover, despite the fact that she hadn’t drunk any alcohol since last Friday, the day before her birthday. It was just another sign, along with bodily aches and sudden irritation, that Clarke wasn’t getting enough sleep.

“Tell me you’re being overdramatic. I was just starting to like you, blondie.”

“I’m actually going to drop dead any second,” she groaned. “Get a bucket.”

A glass was set down on the bar in front of her. Just that small _clink_ sent waves of blinding pain through Clarke’s head. “A bucket?”

“For when I inevitably hit my head during the fall and bleed out.”

Raven scoffed jokingly. “You look exhausted. What’s been keeping you up so late?”

Clarke leisurely opened her eyes. Raven’s tone had been light as if she didn’t expect Clarke to tell her the truth. That wasn’t surprising. Clarke wasn’t going to.

It’s not that she didn’t like the other girl. She did. They’d become pretty good friends in the short span of time they’d known each other. The Monday after they’d met, Raven caught up with Clarke in the halls at school and they’d discovered they actually had a class together, one that Clarke often skipped.

They’d sat together at lunch and Raven got to talk with Monty and Jasper more. Since this time they weren’t too drunk to see straight, they immediately started tripping over themselves to impress her. But both backed off once Clarke reminded them of their existing love lives.

In the end, the three of them got along really well.

It kind of terrified Clarke.

Things were changing. First with Finn, who she had been avoiding all week, then Bellamy, now her friend group. She wasn’t sure she could handle everything moving at once. That’s why she stopped herself from coming completely clean with Raven. Maybe it would help things slow down.

But at the moment, she did want to be honest. The truth was, Clarke wasn’t sleeping. Not well, anyway. Nightmares plagued her every dream, twisting them into something cruel and leaving her shaking when she finally wakes up. It was always something about her father. He was always out of reach, sometimes literally and sometimes metaphorically as he laid dead at her feet.

Then there was Bellamy. Her thoughts seemed to center around him more and more ever since her freaking birthday. She didn’t know how to act around him. It wasn’t awkward. In fact, they seemed to enjoy each other’s company more than before. He’d still tease her about little things and she’d reply with a sarcastic comment or playful punch.

But something had changed and it frustrated the hell out of Clarke that she didn’t know what it was. Instead of saying any of that to answer Raven’s question, Clarke simply explained, “School. My teachers can’t freaking communicate with each other. I have, like, five projects all due on the same day. It’s driving me insane.”

Raven laughed, resting her forearms on the bar between them. “Ask Jasper to help. He’s wicked smart from what I can tell.”

“He is. But I’ve made that mistake before. The last time I asked him for help, he almost blew up my computer. I still don’t understand how.”

She pushed away from the bar, thinking. “What about Monty?”

“He completely restarted my computer. I lost everything.” Clarke couldn’t help a smile at the memory. She was furious at him for days and it wasn’t because of her lost schoolwork. She’d been building this huge, stone mansion on Minecraft that took forever and it got erased. She couldn’t have cared less about the assignment.

“I’ll figure it out. And if not, I’ll drop a class.”

That earned a bitter laugh out of Raven. “I can’t believe how easily you just dismiss school. You skip and drop classes like it’s nothing.” She was smiling, but there was something tense about it. Something almost spiteful.

It was the same look Bellamy used to give her when they were younger, when he thought she was just another spoiled little girl. Clarke knew how hard Raven worked to just put herself through school and wanted to slap herself.

“Oh, Raven. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to sound…I’m so sorry.” She didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t make the situation worse.

Raven furrowed her brows as if confused about what Clarke meant. Then it was clear she understood. “No, Clarke, I know what you’re thinking. I don’t blame you or anything. Our situations are different. Trust me, if I lived your life, I’m not sure I’d go to school at all.”

“But I still…if you ever need any money, please just ask.”

“If I wanted your money, I’d hold you hostage and demand it.” She smirked. “I’m not a charity case. I work for what I have. That’s the only way it’s ever actually going to be mine.”

Clarke nodded, fighting a smile. “I respect that.”

“Thanks.”

Someone called for another round and Raven promised to be right back, leaving Clarke alone with her tired thoughts. She laid her head back down on her arm and closed her eyes. _It’ll just be for a second_ , she thought. _Just to rest my eyes._

An hour and a half later, Clarke felt something gently shaking her shoulders.

She blindly tried to swat them away with her hand. “Go ‘way,” she mumbled.

The next thing she knew, Raven had pulled her up out of her seat and was looking her in the face. “As much as I might be starting to like you, I’m on break and you can’t sleep when I’m not here. You shouldn’t be sleeping here anyway, but I’m not one to judge.”

Clarke took a second to both adjust her eyes to the lights of the bar around her and process Raven’s words. Great, she’d fallen asleep. For a while, from the looks of it. The people who had been here when Clarke first arrived were gone, replaced with larger groups that looked about her age. So school was over then.

“Sorry, Raven. I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t worry 'bout it,” she said with a pat on Clarke’s back. More like a soft punch. “Come on. We’re going to lunch.”

Clarke stepped away and ran her hands through her hair, trying and failing to undo some tangles that had formed and get it into a decent shape. She wiped her face, rubbed her eyes, and took a breath. Just like that, she was completely awake again.

Her headache was gone.

The two girls made their way out of the bar, letting the door slam behind them. “That sounds good.” Clarke nodded to herself. “And since I slept, I’ll pay—”

“Nope. No one pays for me. But I appreciate the thought.”

They walked a few blocks and decided to stop at a Dairy Queen because, as they found out, they both love their ice cream. But they spent the next couple of minutes arguing over toppings.

“Who eats Butterfinger in their blizzard? That’s disgusting.” Clarke stuck out her tongue before taking another bite of her burger.

“It’s delicious. You don’t see me bashing you and your Oreo blizzard over there, which is kind of the worse choice, but whatever.”

“Oh, that doesn’t count as bashing?”

“Not in the slightest.”

Clarke smiled and flung a small piece of lettuce at her. It stuck to the end of her ponytail.

“So, what’s the deal?” Raven asked after successfully taking all off the outer layers of her fish fillets. “You’re a lot cooler than the magazines make you out to be. I can’t see you as the rebellious, snobby teen they claim you are. Besides maybe the skipping classes.”

Clarke hesitated. “I…it’s a thing between me and my mother. Her career comes first. Always. And I don’t think that’s ok so I try to make her job as hard as possible. Which makes me, like, such a bitch, I know. But, I mean, she’s supposed to put me first. Me and the Blakes.”

“Right. Bellamy and Octavia. What’s it like living with them?”

_You have no idea. One’s been my best friend since I’ve known her and the other…_

“It was hard at first. But I love Octavia. She’s literally an angel. Bellamy…I don’t know if hate is a strong enough word.” _More like love._

_Shut up, Clarke._

“That’s cool that you get along with them,” Raven said, twirling her spoon around in her ice cream, completely oblivious to Clarke’s inner, stupid turmoil. “And I get the whole mother thing.”

“What do you mean?”

Another bitter laugh. “Mine was an alcoholic bitch. She spent money we didn’t have then went off and died, leaving me to try and work my way out of debt.” She paused as if deciding if she should continue or not. “Sometimes, I’d find my mom passed out on the ground and I didn’t know if she was unconscious or dead. I’d call the police, pick her up, and try to resuscitate her. She’s the reason I now know how to bring someone back from the brink of death.” Another, quieter laugh.

“I’m sorry.”

Raven's smile was sad, full of missed opportunities and long hours. “Me too.”

They sat in silence for a while, each with their own thoughts. Clarke wondered what it was like to be a mother like theirs. Who could spend so much time creating someone knew only to abandon them once they enter the world? For the longest time, she thought she was the problem. That she wasn’t good enough, wasn’t worth her mother’s time. She tried and tried to be better, to be useful, to have a purpose in her mother’s life. After a while, Clarke just accepted that nothing she did would ever be enough. But hearing Raven’s story, she knew she wasn’t the problem. Neither of them was. It was their mothers’. Somehow knowing that even though their situations were different in so many ways that they still shared the same type of pain, made Clarke see Raven in a whole new light.

“So…Bellamy,” Raven suddenly said with a wicked grin. “I’ve seen him around school. You jump that yet?”

The question surprised a sip of soda out of Clarke’s mouth. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, come on. The dude is hot and you’ve been living with him for _years_. You’re telling me you two have never…”

“Raven, he’s like my brother. And we both hate each other.” _Or we did, once. Maybe. And he is nothing like my brother._

Raven just sighed and shook her head, looking back down at her ice cream. “Shame. Can you imagine what it’d be like though? God, even this ice cream can’t cool me down now”

“Shut up,” Clarke laughed. But she knew exactly what it would be like, just not what Raven was talking about. If anything were to happen, if that line that had been drawn between them all those years ago suddenly disappeared, everything would change. And Clarke wasn’t sure it would be for the better.

If she didn’t know how to act around him _now_ , it would be unbearable if they got together.

Besides, she wasn’t even sure he liked her like that. Or at all.

“You know what? I have some advice for you, blondie.”

“If you say ‘hit that’ or something, I’m leaving.”

“No, about your mother.”

“Oh.” Clarke shut up at that.

“The only way I survived after my mother died was by bringing myself out of her shadow. I did everything I knew she wouldn’t do. I worked and worked and worked to turn my life around from where it was heading. I didn’t let her or her actions dictate my life.”

Clarke nodded; her throat was suddenly dry.

“You aren’t that girl in the magazines, Clarke. And you aren’t your mother’s daughter. You’re you and it’s about time you start acting like it. Stop letting your mother dictate your actions. Be whoever the hell you want to be, damn everyone else.”

“I don’t think I know who I am, Raven.”

“Bull. I know you feel wrong when you do things to spite your mother because that’s exactly how I felt. I’m not saying listen to your mother or follow her every command or whatever, but don’t compromise yourself to punish her. You’re just punishing yourself.”

Clarke knew what she was saying was true. She’s known it her whole life, ever since she started acting out against her mother. It was time she did something about it.

She met Raven’s eyes and asked, “Is Azgeda hiring?”

Raven’s grin was an answer in itself, just to a different question.

Though Halloween had never been Bellamy’s favorite holiday, he could understand why it was Octavia’s. It was the same reason most people enjoyed the thirty-first. For one night a year, you could be whoever you wanted. You could hide behind masks and wigs and makeup. You could be anything.

That and the fact that you get a bag full of candy.

He remembered Octavia dressing up when she was younger, changing her mind at the last minute, and forcing Bellamy to go out and try to find whatever she wanted to be. He’d even made one of her costumes.

The year before Abby Griffin took them in, they went trick-or-treating together for the first time around their crappy neighborhood. Octavia was only three and Bellamy made sure to stay by her side the whole time. Not once did he take his eyes off her. He caught her before she stumbled, gave neighbors scary looks when they didn’t give her enough candy, and carried her around on his back when she got tired.

The next year, they didn’t go trick-or-treating. Octavia spent the night alone in her room. Bellamy punched his wall a couple of times, but that wasn’t too rare of an occurrence at the time.

The year after that, they went again and a certain princess followed them around the whole time. She showed them which houses gave out the most candy, which houses didn’t give out any, and which houses had decorations so scary it’d make them pee their pants. Naturally, she dared Bellamy to go up to one of the scary ones.

By then, they’d known each other for about a year and the only thing they had in common was Octavia. They fought over who got to hold her hand and who got to go to each door with her. They fought and fought and fought.

So, when Clarke dared him to go up to the creepiest house in the neighborhood, he wasn’t about to say no.

It hadn’t ended well. He made it all the way to the door, just to trip over his own feet as a skeleton popped out at him from one of the bushes. He ran from the house and almost knocked Octavia over in his haste to get them both away from that stupid house. Clarke had cried from laughing so hard.

As the years passed, the dynamics changed like their costumes, growing up along with them. Bellamy and Clarke no longer fought over who held Octavia’s hand. Clarke was no longer able to tell them things about the neighborhood they didn’t know. And now, Bellamy would make sure Clarke and Octavia got away from the scary house.

But what never changed was the three of them going out and trick-or-treating together.

There were about a hundred parties that all took place on the thirty-first but not once had Bellamy or Clarke went to one. Not when Octavia looked forward to Halloween more than her own birthday.

This year, she had chosen to go as a demigod. Bellamy guessed her choice had everything to do with her recent obsession with Percy Jackson, which had been his favorite series as a kid. It had been perfect for his lifelong mythology obsession that only grew the older he became. Everything that happened in life could be tied back to the mythical stories. Believing in them had been the one thing that kept Bellamy going after his mother mentally checked out and he was forced to raise his sister in Griffin manor.

He’d die before ever admitting this to her, but the first time he saw Clarke, she hadn’t reminded him of a princess. She’d reminded him of Calypso.

Then he got to know her and realized that, as cheesy as it sounds, she was definitely Athena. Her mind worked circles around anyone who stands against her, always three moves ahead. The other similarities were things he didn’t let himself think about.

Bellamy decided to go as a firefighter this year for the sole reason that it was the easiest costume to make without going out and buying anything. He worked at a coffee shop for god’s sake. It wasn’t like he had money to throw around. And he’d kneel over and die before he accepted money from Abby Griffin.

He’d take it for Octavia, but never himself.

“How do I look?” Octavia asked as she skipped two stairs at a time to get to him. She wore a bright orange T-shirt that had a Pegasus underneath the words _Camp Half-Blood_ and jeans. Her hair was pulled up into a ponytail and a necklace full of beads with different designs hung from her neck.

“Like a demigod straight out of Percy Jackson.” Bellamy grinned at her as she seemed to glow at the comparison.

“Wait until you see Clarke. I picked out her costume!”

“Is she a demigod too?”

“Nope. Better.”

Bellamy doubted that but didn’t say anything else. Clarke didn’t have the best track record with Halloween costumes. When Abby started her whole disappearing act and was no longer there to help her, Clarke decided that from then on, she would make her own costumes. Once, she tried sewing her own Ariel mermaid tail and pricked herself with the needle so many times that she got blood all over the finished product. She played it off by saying, “It’s a scary Ariel. She got in a fight under the sea.”

Another time, when Clarke was older, she tried to make a dress for her angel costume and forgot to make the sleeves, so she spent the whole night trying to keep it from falling down. Admittedly, Bellamy didn’t help. Every so often, he’d tug on the side of it just to see her face flush red. Her glare was scarier than any Halloween decorations they passed.

The next year, Clarke cut a huge hole in the back of Bellamy’s scarecrow costume in retaliation.

After ten minutes of waiting for her to dress, Bellamy rolled his eyes and shouted up the stairs. “Fell free to take your time, princess!” He was leaning against the wall across from where Octavia sat on the bottom steps. Despite the wait, her smile hadn’t faltered. This must be some costume.

“I cannot _believe_ you talked me into this!” Clarke shouted back. Her voice sounded strained as if she was struggling with something. Bellamy closed his eyes, trying to imagine what complications were coming this year.

“I said we could go out and buy it,” Octavia mumbled more to herself than him. “But she’s Clarke. Why would she make it that easy?”

He couldn’t help but laugh at that. And agree.

“I’m almost done!”

 _I’ve heard that before_ , Bellamy thought, crossing his arms. Growing up with two girls had taught him to never believe their words, especially when they involved almost being ready. He wondered what kind of costume took this much preparation. Usually, Clarke was the first one dressed, having laid out her entire costume earlier in the day.

“Losing daylight!” he called.

“Ok, ok. I’m ready.” Her voice sounded closer and Bellamy opened his eyes just as Octavia practically screamed.

He was ready to make a comment on some missed holes, loose threads, any imperfections he knew she probably had already realized. He was ready for some stupid Pegasus costume or mythological creature to go with Octavia’s demigod outfit. That’s what he was ready for.

So, when Bellamy saw Clarke standing at the top of the stairs, the image of her dressed as a Greek goddess shot through him like a bullet.

She wore an elegant, flowing white dress with a gold trim that tightened around her waist. A thin, gold belt wrapped around her waist and the rest of the dress poured from it like liquid. The neckline dipped, creating space for a long golden necklace to rest against Clarke’s upper chest. Matching bracelets hugged her wrists and white roses were woven into her braided blonde hair like a crown. Dark eyeliner brought out her light green eyes and clashed against her pale skin.

And Clarke’s shy smile brought all of it together.

Octavia’s squeals seemed to mute themselves as he realized Clarke was staring at him, as if to see his reaction. Gone was the Clarke he saw on a daily basis, who kicked and screamed against showing signs of vulnerability. Who guarded her emotions like a vault and lived in fear of anyone knowing what she really felt. Who was so focused on not feeling anything, that she felt everything.

Right then, she was just Clarke. The girl Bellamy couldn’t help but love.

“You look so good, Clarke. I love it!” Octavia ran up the stairs and almost knocked her down with a hug. “This is so perfect.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Clarke said as she released her. “I can see why you guys like the mythology thing. I feel powerful.” She held the edges of her dress and spun in place, creating a cloud of white fabric around her.

“Bellamy, you should’ve been Poseidon or someone. We could all match,” Octavia said after she and Clarke had made it down the stairs.

“Wouldn’t that make him my brother?” Clarke scrunched up her face in disgust.

Bellamy gave her a look.

“It depends on which goddess you are.” He made sure his voice came out steady, even.

She shrugged. “I don’t know for sure. I kind of like not being one specific goddess. I can be whichever one I want.”

“Which means you want to be Aphrodite.”

“Haha,” Clarke said sarcastically, a hint of a smile on her lips. “because she’s the goddess of beauty. Well, I can see the similarities, but she’s a little too superficial for me.”

She played with the tip of her braid while she thought. “I want to be Clarke, goddess of…”

“Whatever the hell you want,” Bellamy grinned. He watched as she did the same.

“Yeah. I’m Clarke, goddess of whatever the hell I want.”

“I like it,” Octavia chimed in, a hint of impatience in her voice. “Now let’s go get candy.”

“No, I want the caramel one. That one.”

“I want the caramel.”

“Well, I gave you my Reese’s so I get that one.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes as Clarke grabbed the candy from where his stash laid out between the two of them. Her pile sat a few inches away and where his had a variety of different sweets, hers was made out of nothing but chocolate.

Octavia had gone to sleep a little earlier after four straight hours of trick-or-treating and her bag of candy was nowhere to be found. Not that either of them had been looking for it.

“I get your Skittles.” Bellamy started to reach for her lone red packet but she slapped his hand away.

“No one touches my Skittles.” She tossed something at him. “You can have a mini Hersey bar.”

He readjusted his seating on the living room couch, his feet numb from being in the same position for so long. His fireman suspenders had long since fallen off his shoulders and his boots were lost somewhere in the kitchen.

Clarke sat across from him on the couch, mirroring him almost exactly. Her bare feet were propped up on a footrest, a blanket was thrown across her lap, and one arm rested against the couch side while the other sorted through her candy.

The roses from her hair were littered along the ground around them and Clarke’s hair ran loose around her shoulders with nothing to hold it back.

This was often where they found themselves at midnight on Halloween, laying out in the living room and trading candy like crack cocaine. Some of their worst arguments were rooted in stolen sweets and bad bargains.

“Oh! I’ll trade you this dark chocolate for those gummy bears.” Clarke jumped in her seat as she spotted the tiny package.

“Nope,” Bellamy said. “Three dark chocolates.” He bit back a smile at her expression. Her brows furrowed and mouth parted slightly as she considered the deal.

“Fine, but you have to throw in that cherry lollipop.”

“Deal.”

Clarke’s slouched posture gave her the perfect opportunity to rest her head against the back of the couch. She closed her eyes and sighed. He wondered what was going on in her head. Wondered what she thought about when no one was around.

“You too tired for this? Cause I will gladly take your candy off your hands.”

She smiled. “Keep dreaming, bud.”

Bellamy threw a small piece at her and she opened her eyes, mocking hurt. “Ouch.”

“What’s going on with you? I can count on one hand the number of insults you’ve said tonight.” And he could remember what they were too. It was stupid, he thought, but she never seemed to mean any of the words she’d say. They came out almost naturally as if calling each other _princess_ and _idiot_ had become embedded in their weird, messed up relationship.

Focused on that train of thought, Bellamy missed the way Clarke had seemed to curl in on herself. Her hands were now intertwined and she pulled her feet up onto the couch underneath her. What he didn’t miss was what she said.

“I broke up with Finn.”

He processed her words but didn’t let himself believe them. This was Clarke. She acted with intent. If she’d broken up with him, there was a reason. And Bellamy wasn’t completely sure he wanted to know what it was.

But because it was Clarke, he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Why?”

She said so much with just a simple shrug. “Nothing specific. I was just sick of waiting for him to…catch up, I guess. He had so much to make up for. So many excuses and…I don’t know I just decided I was better without him.”

“How did he take it?”

“Like a puppy kicked in the gut.”

Bellamy tried to hide his laugh with his hand. Her look told him he didn’t do a good enough job.

She let out a frustrated breath. “He wouldn’t let it go. He kept apologizing and making me worse and worse. Which is so _stupid_.”

“Being hurt isn’t stupid, Clarke.”

“Right,” she laughed without humor. Her gaze had come to rest on the edge of her dress, as if the gold trim could give her answers. Or a drink. “It’s human. That’s what Octavia said about crying. Well, being human sucks.”

“Not always.”

He hadn’t meant for their eyes to meet when he said it. Didn’t expect the words to take a whole different meaning as they looked at each other. But it was the truth, wasn’t it?

Life had thrown so much crap at them and expected them to find their way out of it. Maybe acting as they did wasn’t the right way to handle everything else, but it was their way of handling it. And somehow, they’d found that together. Bellamy fought the world in his own way, through fights and one-night-stands and spiteful words. He threw everything he had at life and most of the time it would only ricochet, coming back to punch him in the face. But every so often, he’d find a crack in the world he was forced into. He would be able to take a step forward, away from the life he’s constantly fighting to leave behind. And that would make it worth it.

Clarke fought differently.

Where he was all force and aggression, she found those same cracks in the world through small, thoughtful attacks. She smiles as reporters step on her toes to get a quote, then spends the night getting drunk where everyone can see. She skips the classes she knows won’t truly affect her in the long run and always finds a way to make up for it without making it seem like she cares. That’s what she does best. She hides what she feels behind a mask of rebellious indifference. Walls distance her from anything that could slip through her own cracks and break her from the inside.

But Bellamy doesn’t see the Clarke that she shows to the world. He sees that little princess who had rushed to help his sister after she fell, even though she barely knew either sibling at the time. He sees the girl who screams herself awake from nightmares about her father, who left because he couldn’t handle the crap life threw at him. He couldn’t find a way to handle it, not like Clarke. So, he left. He left and took so much of Clarke with him that it took her years to recover from that loss of both her father and herself.

Bellamy saw _that_ girl. He loved _that_ girl. And he wished more than anything that Clarke could too.

“I’m just…I’m kind of done with it all. I wish everything was just different.”

“Like what?”

Clarke’s smile was small, hiding everything she didn’t think she could say. “Everything.”

He understood. God, he understood. There were so many things he would change if he could. But he never allowed himself to think about them, not when he was so powerless to do anything.

Here. Now. This was the time.

“If I could change things,” Bellamy began, waiting until Clarke looked up at him to continue. “I would have full custody of Octavia. I’d have a job that paid well and that I enjoyed going to. I’d be good at school, I guess, but I wouldn’t really need it. I’m going to grow up to be a librarian or something. Something that involves mythology.”

“Maybe a teacher?” Clarke suggested. Her voice sounded lighter with a hint of hope. A hint of belief.

Bellamy nodded. “Then I would need school. But like I said, I’d be good at it.”

She smiled and this time, there wasn’t a trace of sadness to be found. “Octavia would help you study. She could do that now with how smart she is.”

“I think I would change her life completely. Let her grow up somewhere she liked, where she didn’t have to hide in her room. Give her a normal childhood instead of what she got.”

“Hey, she got you. That’s all she needs,” Clarke said.

“I’m not the one who discovered her love for the dark.”

“I only learned that because I was throwing a tantrum. _She_ found _me_.”

“Clarke, I think you found us.”

She looked down at her hands, then back at him. “What do you mean?”

He grinned. “I was a stupid, stubborn kid who only cared about protecting Octavia. If you hadn’t have tried to help her, tried to actually make a peace between us, I don’t know if we would’ve ever gotten there.”

Clarke nodded, considering. “Why didn’t we become friends then? Why’d we grow up…the way we did towards each other?”

“You mean besides the fact that you were a spoiled little princess?”

“No, besides the fact that you were a rude little idiot.”

“Thanks.”

“You too.”

They sat there for a few minutes, faint smiles on their lips. There was nothing to say, so they didn’t. Nothing they could say. Nothing that was acceptable or appropriate.

But it was Clarke and like always, she pushed the boundaries.

“Can I kiss you?” she asked. The words themselves were spoken quietly. The question itself was so loud Bellamy couldn’t believe he’d heard right. “I guess I just…I need to know.”

He stared at her, wondering what her train of thought was. “Need to know what?”

“If I’ve been imagining it. If—if I’m losing my mind?”

“Why now?”

“Because I had a dream about it once when I was eleven.” Her sarcasm seemed shaky, like she wasn’t sure if that was the right thing to say. To anyone else, it probably wouldn’t have been. “Because like I said, I’m done with all of it. I’m done with wondering and thinking and hoping. I just…I wanna—”

The time it took for Bellamy to close the distance between them, which was the length of a couch, was pretty impressive. But her words were exactly what he needed to hear. So, he kissed her.

Clarke let out a small gasp. She hadn’t actually expected him to do it. To go through with it. A small part of him was proud he could still surprise her, even after all these years. Then, her eyes closed and she was kissing him back. Her hand grasped the front of his shirt, pulling him down to her as her head slid to lay against the armrest.

Their piles of candy went everywhere. Bellamy blindly tried to push most of it away, but he was too lost in the kiss to put much effort into it. Clarke’s lips were soft against his, which had been cut open too many times to be anything was rough and scarred. She didn’t complain though, just kissed him deeper until it felt like they were one person.

One of Bellamy’s hands rested on her waist, while the other kept him propped up above her. He wished he could run one through her hair, to feel her blonde curls rush through his fingers. Her hands were on his chest and the back of his neck, as if she couldn’t get close enough.

When Clarke pulled back, they remained close enough to feel each other’s uneven breaths. “This,” she breathed, “this is real right?”

“Yes,” he whispered against her lips.

And it was. Everything he’d ever felt for her since they were children was real. His feelings for her had grown with time as he did. Now that she was in his arms, he never wanted to let her go.

“This is real.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if everything I wrote makes sense, I just kind of write as it comes to me and makes sense in my own mind. I really wanted to show just what makes this relationship so important to me and why I ship them. Yes, Bellamy and Clarke are both hot and badass, but their dynamic in the show is also one that really leaves you thinking. I really don't care what Jason says or does, Clarke and Bellamy loved each other. Bellamy loved Clarke since the start and always saw her for who she was, not the selfish dictator some people claimed. He was always by her side and it makes me so frustrated that this relationship was ruined because of personal bias. Anyway, I really hope you guys liked it and I hope it makes up for the delay. Please feel free to add any comments or suggestions for the story. You can even rant like I just did. Sometimes it helps to just share your thoughts. Thanks!  
> P.S. yes, I know that whole "Clarke is a goddess and Bellamy loves mythology" is cheesy or whatever, but we all need a little cheesinest from time to time. And it's my fanfiction. So...there.


	11. Try to mend it but I can't bend the truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please, please don't be mad that this update is three weeks late. I'm just as disappointed in myself as you guys probably are. But to be honest, I have not been doing so well with this whole *life* thing. I've had a lot of really bad days these past few weeks and the word "motivation" lost all meaning. School has been kicking me in the gut, my mental health has been in the gutter, and writing has been the last thing I've wanted to do. I honestly can't promise a reliable schedule anymore but please bear with me. Now my updates will be more like a surprise than anything.  
> (I know for sure I won't be posting during the Thanksgiving break)   
> For this chapter: I wanted to kind of take a step back from Bellamy and Clarke's relationship just for a chapter and really focus on Clarke's other relationships, especially her friendship with Raven. I promise Octavia will show up more often in the following chapter and now Raven should appear more frequently too. but yes, this is still a bellarke fanfiction, I promise.   
> Did all of that sound as pathetic as it did to me? Eww

“There was _no way_ that was real.”

“Of course, it was. That detail could not be made up.”

“Well, it happened. But that didn’t make it _real_.”

“Oh my god, Griffin. You don’t think he just said that to get in your pants, right?” Raven’s lips parted, matching the shock in her words.

“Dudes, this is _Bellamy_. When did this even become an issue? I thought you hated the guy,” Jasper said around his ham and peanut butter sandwich. Lunch with him was always full of different, unheard-of combinations of foods that are never meant to go together. Once, he brought a pickle filled with mustard and somehow convinced both Clarke and Monty to try it.

Monty had spit it out immediately and Clarke had been late to her next class because of the time it took for her to empty the contents of her stomach in the girl’s bathroom.

“That’s how the best relationships start, Jas. I’ve always been a sucker for the whole enemies-to-lovers trope.”

“Harper and I didn’t hate each other at first,” Monty interjected. His hands slowed on his newest machinery that he’d finally gotten back from the cop on campus. It had almost blown up the metal detector at the entrance of the school and was confiscated until it could be proven as harmless. Monty had just managed to get it back the class before when the cop had finally realized that it wasn’t a weapon of mass destruction. It was a fast-paced pencil sharpener.

“You don’t _have_ to hate each other at first. You and Harper are perfect, don’t get me wrong. But this is Clarke we’re talking about. Anything less than a difficult, hot, and steamy romance is not her style.”

“Oh my god, shut up.” Clarke subtly flipped her off from across the bench table. Jasper and Monty chuckled at Raven’s mock hurt expression. “And there isn’t an issue. Jasper’s right. This is Bellamy we’re talking about. Halloween was an inconsistency. That’s not what our relationship is.”

“But it’s what it could be.”

“No. That’s just…it doesn’t work. We don’t work.”

Raven rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her lemonade. “Then why’d you kiss him?”

“ _He_ kissed _her_. She just asked for him to,” Monty said.

“Whatever. The point is, Clarke, you asked him, despite whatever mixed feelings you have about him.”

She was right. Of course, she was. This is Raven. And the truth was, Clarke didn’t know why she asked. She couldn’t stop replaying it in her head. One second, she’d been spilling her guts over a pile of Halloween candy to the boy she was supposed to hate. The next, she was asking to kiss him. And _he kissed her first_.

She’d thought it would be a normal kiss, an experiment to test her hypothesis. It would be like tying off a loose end. She’d no longer have to imagine what would happen if his lips were on hers.

But there was nothing normal about kissing Bellamy Blake.

Clarke lowered her head and pretended to busy herself with eating her lunch to avoid answering. But she was really remembering everything she had felt at that moment. Needless to say, she hadn’t thought he’d do it. Worst case scenario, he’d tease her relentlessly for months just for asking. Best case scenario…exactly what happened.

She remembered his hands on her waist, her skin, in her hair. His body had warmed hers like a blanket and every point of contact felt as if it had been set aflame. No clothes had been discarded, save for one of Clarke’s slippers that had fallen off during the commotion. Bellamy never went further than kissing along her neck and collarbone and his hands stayed within view the whole time. Which was normal, of course.

Nothing else was ever going to happen.

So why did Clarke feel guilty about wishing it had?

The kiss was probably a one-time thing. A meaningless taste test that was bound to happen eventually. Bellamy could sleep with any girl he wants and that’s never included Clarke. She doubted it would start now.

 _Besides_ , she thought for the hundredth time, _it was probably the goddess thing. Of course, that was a turn-on_.

So, dressing up as a goddess, literally Bellamy’s dream costume, wasn’t the smartest idea. But Octavia was technically the one to blame. She had wanted both of them to match and it just seemed like the reasonable choice, despite the gold trim taking hours to sew on. Though, the look on Bellamy’s face had made every hour worth it.

Clarke fought a flinch as her thoughts continued. She couldn’t believe she’d actually asked him if it was real. Of course it wasn’t. It was a release of teenage hormones that had been buzzing with sexual tension for years. Just a way to let off steam.

“We’ve known each other forever. It was only a matter of time. I was just getting it over with. It’s really not that big of a deal, Raven.” Clarke poked at her cold spaghetti noodles she’d forgotten to heat up when they were still in the cafeteria. Now, they were sitting at their usual bench outside with no microwaves to be seen.

Raven leaned back with a sigh, resting her boots on the empty seat beside Clarke. “But what if it is to him? What if he liked it? Likes you?”

Jasper snorted, which earned a warning glare from Clarke and a slap on the shoulder from Monty. “What? No hate to you, Clarke. I love your guts. But as I’ve said, this is Bellamy. We’ve known him just as long as we’ve known you.”

“And?” Raven asked for her.

“And Monty and I have an outside perspective. We see how they—” he motioned towards Clarke— “interact without rose-colored glasses on.”

“Get to the point, goggles.”

Jasper rolled his eyes. “All I’ll say is that he probably liked it. A lot.” He went back to finishing his sandwich as if his opinion had changed nothing. But what he’d just said…it planted doubt in the growing conclusion Clarke had formed in her mind. That it had just been a break in the pattern. An inconsistency.

Raven seemed pleased. She threw her head back and smiled, nudging Clarke in the side with her boot. “See? I’ve been here like a week and even I saw that coming.”

“There’s nothing to ‘see coming.’ It was just…ugh, I don’t even know,” she groaned, wiping a hand down her face. A headache had begun to wiggle its way into her mind, spreading slowly like a spider web across her head. It was all just too confusing too soon.

“God, I wish my mom didn’t suck. This situation feels like a mother-gives-her-daughter-life-changing-advice situation.”

“Aww, don’t worry, C. I’ll be your mom.” Raven’s smile turned into a grin and she crossed her arms at Clarke’s disgusted expression. “What? I’d be a wonderful mother.”

“Can I be your dad?” Jasper spoke up. Raven rolled her eyes, playfully pushing him away.

“In your dreams, googles.”

Half an hour later, once lunch was over and the two boys had departed to go to their next class, Clarke and Raven were walking side by side down the semi-crowded school hallway, taking their time to get to their health class. It was going to be one of those hands-on learning lessons, where the teacher gave them all Barbie dolls and instructions on what to do with them. There was no hurry to get to that.

“How’d that history test go earlier?” Clarke asked as she pulled on the arm that was hooked around hers. Something about Raven she’d learn quickly was that she had no regard for personal space. She reminded Clarke of Octavia sometimes in the way she’d lay her legs across Clarke's lap or lean her head on her shoulder as if it were nothing. Clarke didn’t mind of course. She knew it was Raven’s way of saying how much she liked her.

“I freaking nailed it. Knew every question. Totally worth the lack of sleep it caused.”

“Really?”

“No,” Raven laughed. “But I had you going there for a minute. I actually have no idea how it would’ve gone. We never got to take it.”

They stepped to the side as a younger classman sprinted through the hallway as if his life depended on him not being late and watched as he crashed into a guy who looked weirdly familiar, but Clarke didn’t dwell on it. They continued walking and Clarke tugged on her arm again. “Why didn’t you guys take it?”

“We were about to but someone threw a rock through the back window. It shattered and a kid got a couple of shards in his back. Nothing too back, I don’t think. But my teacher dismissed us to investigate.”

“What do you think happened?”

“Honestly?” She lowered her voice. “Grounders. They’ve been getting bolder lately because of whatever feud is going on between them and the Mountain Men.”

“But how does breaking a school window contribute to that feud? They prove they’ve got stones?” Clarke hid a smile at her own joke, hoping Raven doesn’t notice.

She doesn’t but still gives a small laugh. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s a way of marking their territory? Like a way of saying ‘back off, the school’s ours?’”

Clarke shrugged. She never bothered to get involved in the gang wars. Sure, once or twice she used them to spread rumors that she was “hanging with the wrong crowd” after a particularly bad fight with her mother. It was petty and low and she knew that, but it got Abby’s attention after an absence of three weeks.

Then there was the time she helped Jasper after he’d been attacked by them. To this day, she still doesn’t know what he had said or done that caused the Grounders to come after him, but it must’ve been something terrible if he still hadn’t been willing to tell her. She wasn’t sure Monty even knew.

“Maybe it’s one of them going rogue,” Raven continued. They’d turned the corner and were just a few classes down from theirs. “Or maybe it’s not them at all. As I said, I don’t—” She broke off and Clarke raised her head to glance at her.

Her brows were furrowed in a question, yet a small smile was on her lips as she looked ahead. With the clusters of people still remaining in the hallway, Clarke couldn’t be sure who or what she was looking at when she followed her gaze.

“What?”

“Sorry, I just saw my boyfriend. I thought he wasn’t coming today.” Then, the smile grew. “God, I’m such an idiot. You have to meet him!”

Clarke mirrored her excitement. She heard a lot about Raven’s mysterious boyfriend, but not his name. Raven had said she was too worried of Clarke coming across him at school and the two talking about her behind her back, though her words had held a slightly joking tone. Clarke figured she just liked the idea of her boyfriend remaining mysterious and intriguing. So, she didn’t ask.

Later, she’d feel a strong urge to slap herself at the thought. She should’ve asked.

“Won’t that kill the mystery?”

“Trust me, it’ll be worth it. He’ll love you.”

This time, Raven tugged on Clarke’s arm to pull her forward through the hallway full of bodies. As they approached a set of lockers, a certain boy came into view that Clarke recognized and she hoped he wouldn’t try to talk to her as they passed. She hadn’t told Raven anything about Finn. Just that he was her boyfriend, he stood her up too many times to count, and she’d dumped him the day before Halloween.

But they didn’t pass him. No, they walked right up to him.

Clarke stared at Raven as she stopped in front of where he leaned against a locker on his phone. He’d cut his hair and it hung like curtains around his face, which held a few wide cuts that looked fairly new. He never fought when Clarke had been with him. It was something she thought they had in common.

Finn looked up once Raven had stopped and his face displayed a slideshow of emotions. First, he looked startled and confused. Then his eyes softened as he realized who had decided to pay him a visit. Last, cold, raw terror flashed across his features before he schooled them back into a dull look of confusion. But Clarke knew him better than that. His hand shook slightly as it held his phone by his side.

She looked at him closely, then glanced at Raven’s fond smile. The dots connected like a freaking constellation from hell.

“Son of a bitch,” she breathed, just louder than a whisper. Her arm dropped from around Raven’s. The other girl stared at her like she’d grown a second head.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Clarke? This is my boyfriend, Finn.” She shook her head. “Finn, this is Clarke, my friend.”

Finn’s gaze bounced from her to Clarke. Uncertainty mixed with his current fear, as if by some miracle, he could get out of this if he said the right thing. Clarke couldn’t look at anything but him as shock ran down her body like ice-cold water. She expected her heart to crack and her chest to burn with betrayal or pain. But all she felt was anger and a sudden need to step in between him and Raven, as if she could protect her friend from what he had done.

Clarke was over him. She’d moved past his cancellations and broken promises. She hadn’t known for sure until that moment because she didn’t feel hurt he’d cheated on her. She felt pissed off.

“Raven.” He spoke first, his voice gentle. The calm before a storm. And if Clarke knew Raven at all, she knew that whatever was coming was a hell of a lot bigger than a storm. “I…this isn’t—”

“Raven,” Clarke interrupted, her voice so much stronger than his. There was no way she’d let him land this blow. But she couldn’t find the right words to say.

“Ok, what the hell is going on here?” Raven stepped back to look at both of them, crossing her arms across her chest. Her anger wasn’t resigned to Finn and Clarke wondered then what she’ll think once she knows.

Would she blame Clarke? Would she believe that Clarke had been just as naïve as she, just as betrayed? Or would she blame both of them for ruining something she’d had for years?

It didn’t matter. Well, it did to Clarke, but she wasn’t not going to tell her just because she was afraid for herself.

She turned to fully face her friend, looking her in the eyes as she said, “Raven, this is…this is the boy I told you about. The one I broke up with the day before Halloween.”

The brunette faltered. “What?”

“I was dating him for months.”

The words hung in the air around them, a greying cloud that grew darker by the second. Raven didn’t seem to be breathing as she looked between the two. “That’s not true. He and I have been dating for years.”

“Raven—”

“Shut up, Finn,” Clarke snapped. “You cheated on her? With me? Where the hell do you get off?”

“It’s not like that.” He held out his hands, unsure of who to reach for. “Raven, we were separated.” At that, Raven inhaled a quick, sharp breath. He admitted it. He’d made the whole situation much more real. “I thought that meant we’d broken up. But then you moved here and I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to hurt you, Clarke.”

“This isn’t about me.” Later, she’d spend hours in her room alone, slamming a pillow against a wall in anger at herself and him. Tears would run down her face and she’d wipe them away before they had a chance to fall. She’d think about every lie he’d ever told her, every excuse that made so much sense now that they hurt, like physical blows. She’d curse herself and her own stupidity until eventually, she fell asleep lying against the side of her bed.

But for now, it wasn’t about her. It was about Raven.

She was quiet now, staring at something over Finn’s shoulder, and Clarke could practically see her mind working everything out. She didn’t move as she asked quietly, “Did you know?”

“I swear to god, Raven, I just figured it out. His reaction to seeing us together and your introduction…I didn’t know he—” Clarke cut herself off as her voice cracked. _Damn it_.

Raven opened her mouth to say something, then closed it. She slowly raised her head and when she finally made eye contact with Finn, her face had shut down. There was no emotion to be found, no hint of a heart or soul beneath her flesh. She looked as cold and closed off as a stone wall.

“Don’t touch my stuff. I’ll come by your place to get it later. If I see you or any sign of you, I’ll tear your throat out. Got it?” Her voice was calculated, cold. It reminded Clarke of her mother enough to shake her to her core.

“Raven, please, just—” If Raven was ice, Clarke was fire. Without a second thought, she smashed her fist against Finn’s face as he took a step towards them, hitting him right where his nostril met his cheek. He stumbled backward and raised a hand to his face. But he didn’t try again. He didn’t come any closer.

In fact, he ran away.

Clarke shook out her hand as needles pricked their way through the skin of her knuckles. Blood was already starting to gather around her fingers and the bones in her hand burned as the skin pulled away from itself. _Oww_ , she thought. The pain couldn’t compete with the satisfaction it had brought though.

Raven hadn’t reacted to the punch. She still hadn’t moved.

“Raven,” Clarke said quietly, yet strong. She wasn’t sure if the girl could even hear her. “I’m so sorry.”

Finally, she met her eyes. The ice had melted away, replaced by a brokenness Clarke almost couldn’t handle. But she wasn’t about to turn away. Not when she was needed most.

“Come on.” Clarke interlaced their arms again and Raven let her lead them both in the opposite direction of their health class. She walked them out of the school and kept walking when the other girl didn’t protest. They walked all the way to Clarke’s car, got in, and she started driving wordlessly.

It wasn’t until she had parked beside her house that either of them spoke.

“Where are we?” Raven asked. She sounded tired, drained.

“Trust me.”

And she did. The two girls made their way around Griffin manor to the backyard. It was a wide expanse of grass that needed to be cut that led to a small forest of trees half a mile away from the manor. Clarke continued to lead them forward until they hit the end of her family’s property, where the trees began.

They stood there for a minute in silence, staring out into the maze of brown trunks and shadows. Then, without looking at Raven, she explained.

“I’ve never been good at controlling my temper. My dad tried to teach me but it was no use. My mom just always found a way to get under my skin, even when she wasn’t there to do so. And before I met Octavia and Bellamy, before I really started talking to them, I had no one else to talk to. No outlet, I guess. So, when things got really bad, I’d go walking around our house. Eventually, I always ended up here.”

“What did you do when you got here?” Raven asked the question to her boots.

Clarke smiled. “I screamed.”

The other girl lifted her head to look at her in shock, the first sign of emotion since they’d left the school. Instead of answering, Clarke demonstrated. She took a deep breath and let it out as an ear-piercing scream. She kept it short and sweet, especially when Raven stumbled backward a step.

“What the hell, Griffin?”

“Try it.”

“No way. Someone will hear and call the cops. They’ll think we’re being murdered or something.”

“Look around. There’s no one to hear us. A perk of owning the most expansive property in town. There’s no one for at least a couple miles.”

“I still don’t…I don’t know.”

“Do it.” Clarke poked her in the side. “Do it, do it, do it.”

“Ok, ok,” Raven said, squirming away. She turned to face the trees again, took in a breath, and screamed. Both girls covered their ears but didn’t stop until they ran out of breath and became light-headed. Clarke could feel the flood of emotions slowly fading away like a tide as her throat burned against the scream. She let her mind go blank, forgetting everything that had just happened. Forgetting everything, really. All her problems went on hold for the moment. All that mattered was the way her chest heaved with her uneven breaths and the pain in her head as she let it all out.

After both of their throats burned and the echoes of their screams had silenced, Raven lowered herself to the ground without a word. Clarke did the same, waiting for the other girl to say something. Or not say something at all. She didn’t know.

Surprisingly, Raven laughed. It was choked out as if it had fought against tears to escape her first. “What the hell just happened?”

Clarke closed her eyes as the scene replayed itself in her mind. “I have no idea.”

“We got played.”

“He got sloppy.”

“I just can’t believe…” She grounded her teeth together. “I love him and he…he did this.”

Silence passed. Until—

“He was my home.”

Clarke opened her eyes and turned to look at her. “Raven, you’ll get past this. I don’t know how but—”

“No, he was literally my home.” Raven let out another humorless, choked chuckle. “I’ve been staying at his place since I got to town. Just until I can find my own. I don’t have anywhere to go.” She curled her fingers into a fist and Clarke knew how hard it must be for her to admit that. To show weakness in the sight of betrayal. But there was nothing weak about Raven, only what Finn had done to her.

“Of course you do,” Clarke said, nudging her leg with her shoe. “Stay here, at Griffin Manor. We have more than enough room.”

The other girl stared at her blankly, then glanced at the house behind them. Just as she started to shake her head, Clarke remembered what she’d said about working for everything she had. There was no way she’d accept Clarke’s offer unless…

“Don’t say no. You can pay rent each month, just like an apartment. But I guarantee you, you’re going to get what you pay for here.”

Raven opened her mouth, closed it, then looked down at her fisted hands. “What about your mom? And Bellamy and Octavia?”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass what my mom thinks of it. You’d be using her house more than she does. And Bellamy won’t care. If he does, I’ll lock him out again like I did every day of fifth grade. And Octavia will love you.” Clarke kicked at her again. “Come on, Raven. It’s a good deal.”

“I…” She sighed. But when she met Clarke’s eyes again, a faint smile was playing at her lips. “Fine, you win. It’s a deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feel free to give suggestions, recommendations, or any commentary you want. Or maybe just use the comments to talk and rant as I did with the beginning notes. It's up to you.


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